


Encore

by respoftw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Stargate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-12-13 17:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11765013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: Twelve years ago, John turned his back on the love of his life for the Air Force.  Now that the Air Force has turned its back on him, it's time to right that wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

John's final salute was posture-perfect, crisp and clean. The thinning of the General's mouth told him that it had been recognised as the ' _fuck you, Sir_ ' he'd meant it as but John couldn't bring himself to care. If the Air Force thought that getting forced out of their ranks was the worst day of his life, they really didn't know their ass from their elbow.

John exited the room without another word, only letting his shoulders slump and his back unsnap when the air hit his skin and breathing came easier. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, giving himself more room to breathe and paused, just for a second, to look up at the overcast grey sky. A traffic 'copter flew overhead and the sight of it made something brittle in John soften. The sky was still there. He may have lost the Air Force but they couldn't take the sky from him, not while it still existed.

Amused at the wording of his own thoughts, John briefly lamented the fact that tight-panted space cowboy wasn't a valid career choice; he'd have been good at that.

"You're smiling. Can I take that to mean that they didn't make the idiotic mistake of kicking you out?"

John hadn't asked Lorne to be waiting for him but he found himself glad of the friendly face. Major Evan Lorne, the same rank John had held until ten minutes ago, was one of the few friends he had left in the Air Force, and arguably the one who knew him best.

John would miss him.

"Fuck," Lorne cursed under his breath, reading the situation more clearly as he saw whatever was written in John's eyes. His poker face had never worked on Evan, not since that drunken night in Kabul.

"Shep, fucking hell...John. Do you want me to - -"

John didn't even let Lorne finish that thought. "I want you to buy me a drink," he said.

He didn't grudge Lorne the look of relief on his face.

"That, I can do. Gladly, even." Lorne clapped him on the shoulder as they fell into step, picking a direction at random and starting to walk. "Maybe even more than one."

Picking a direction, they set off in search of a bar.

"You still have the dress uniform," Lorne commented after half a block of silence. "I know they make you give that back when - -"

John cut him off with a tight smile. "Officially, I chose to leave."

"Unofficially?"

John shrugged. "A choice between leaving and being chained to a desk for the rest of my twenty years isn't a choice."

He knew Lorne didn't understand it, not really. John wasn't sure anyone really understood his need to fly. His family sure hadn't. Lorne was a good soldier, a solid leader and a damn decent pilot but he served for a love of his country and its people. Maybe that's what John was missing all these years. He had never been one to blindly tow the line for the greater good. He was there for the sky and every one of his COs had known it. John didn't fight for a love of his country or a trust in his superiors; never had. The sky and his team; _that_ was who John fought for. It was ironic really that fighting for one had cost him the other.

"Come on," Lorne's shoulder bumped him, jolting him from his thoughts. John looked around and realised that they'd stopped outside a bar. Far enough away from the Air Force offices to be free of curious eyes but close enough that the uniform wouldn't be an issue. Lorne would make someone an excellent XO some day. Lorne smiled at him, his cheeks dimpling. "Let's get wasted."

* * *

Good whisky didn't burn but whatever they were drinking, it wasn't good whisky. John grimaced as he swallowed but immediately followed it with another. It might not be good whisky but it would get him where he wanted to go.

"Ugh." Lorne shuddered as his own whisky burned its way down his gullet.

"Hey, you ordered it," John held his hands up in mock surrender. "Try the second one. It tastes better the more you drink it."

It didn't taste better but after four drinks, John didn't care. He felt lighter, a pleasant buzz in his head that almost made him forget about Dex and Holland, about the meeting this morning and the threatening panic over what his next step should be.

Lorne, of course, had to ruin it.

"So, Shep. You gonna look him up?"

John knocked back another drink. “Look who up?” he bluffed.

Lorne wasn't so easily deterred, picking up John's last remaining shot and moving it to where John would have to reach over two pint glasses and around Evan to get it. “The one who got away,” Lorne answered seriously. “The man you left behind because you wanted to fly. The love of your damn life according to what you told me.”

John sighed deeply. “I was drunk when I told you that.” Drunk and coming off four days of heavy combat. It was, he felt, unfair of Evan to speak of those confidences now when he was only lightly buzzed and they were on solid ground.

“You were honest,” Evan argued. “Might be the first time you were ever really honest with me about something that mattered.” He shook his head and downed John's last shot of whisky, only shuddering slightly. “Look, Shep …John. I can't pretend to know what you're feeling right now. I mean, I'm thinking you must be feeling lost, maybe a little afraid, a lot angry, but who the fuck knows? You keep things close to your chest, always have, and I think it's gotten to the point that even you have a hard time figuring out your damn feelings or even admitting to yourself that you have them. But, y’know what? When you told me about that guy…shit, John, that was the first time I felt like you were really real, y’know?” Lorne patted John on the shoulder and wobbled to his feet. “Doesn't seem like something anyone'd want to give up twice is all. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to take a piss.”

Lorne weaved his way to the back of the bar, disappeared behind a door and left John with too many hard thoughts; too many hard feelings. Lorne was right. Feelings weren't something John allowed himself often, not when he could help it.

Feelings were messy and painful. Feelings were watching his Mom’s coffin get lowered into the Earth; feelings were hearing his Father tell him that no son of his would be a ‘nancy boy’ and live under his roof; feelings were lying on his back looking at the stars and teaching an astrophysicist their stories instead of just their composition. Feelings were listening to that same astrophysicist beg him not to leave and leaving anyway.

John hadn't let himself feel in a long time.

“Another round, Sir?”

John looked up at the bartender, jolted from his thoughts. God, yes, he thought. Several more. John wanted to keep drinking until he could forget about everything. The Air Force, Holland, Dex, his Mom, his Father.

_Meredith._

He wanted to drink and forget so badly that he knew he shouldn't.

“No. Thanks. I think we're done.” John pushed the empty glasses together for easier access and dropped his change into the tip jar. He'd wait for Evan and then they'd call it a night. He'd make sure Evan got back to his hotel or wherever the hell he was staying safely and do the same himself. He'd strip off the uniform that was feeling heavier and heavier with each passing second, put on some sweats, maybe hit the steam room in the hotel gym to sweat out the alcohol and then - - -

John had no idea what he was going to do after that and tried very hard not to let that terrify him.

He'd figure it out. He always did.

* * *

**_I hate you._ **

John pressed send on the text to Evan and pocketed his phone without waiting for a response. He didn't even know where Evan was, only that he'd shipped out with John's old unit ten days ago. He didn't need a response though, just sending the sentiment out there had helped, serving as a distraction from the really stupid move he was about to make.

Passers by barely glanced at him as he stamped his feet to keep warm, just another face in the crowd. He envied them that ease.

He stood under the awning of a bus stop, facing away from the traffic and looking at the imposing skyscraper in front of him. The doors were polished glass and the lobby - what he could see of it - was white marble.

He had no idea what the hell he was doing here, just a vague sense that it was all Evan’s fault. He hadn't been able to shake the damn feelings that his drink with Evan had stirred up and, after three weeks of bumming around DC and racking up an obscene hotel bill, he had found himself in Toronto.

Where he was acting like a green recruit who was too scared to pick up the damn gun and shoot.

John hadn't been that green recruit for a long time and he was damned if he was gonna go back there. He drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, tossed his empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can and entered the revolving doors of McKay Enterprises.

* * *

“Can I help you?”

John had spent so long talking himself into doing this; coming to Toronto, to McKay Enterprises; that he hadn't given any thought to what he would say when he got here.

“Sir?” The spiky haired receptionist’s smile was starting to falter the longer John stood there without answering. What the hell was he supposed to say? Hi, my name’s John Sheppard and I'm here to visit the guy I chose the Air Force over twelve years ago because the Air Force finally had enough and kicked me out and I'm a little bit lost and, oh yeah, I never really stopped loving him.

“John Sheppard?”

Luckily, John was spared having to find out if he was pathetic enough to go with that opening gambit as a faintly familiar man in a cream cable knit sweater and burgundy cords approached him.

“John Sheppard,” the man repeated again. “It really is you. I - - does Rodney know you are here?”

John only barely recognised the man in front of him - the wire rimmed glasses a new feature and the hair much wilder than he remembered - but he would know that accent anywhere.

“Hey, Radek,” John plastered a wide smile on his face, the one that he had honed during countless dinner parties as a member of the Sheppard dynasty. “Long time no see. You look good.”

Radek’s smile was much more genuine than his own. Genuine but bewildered. “I look older and fatter,” he disagreed, “but you look almost exactly the same. You must tell me your secret, ano?”

“My secret?” John barked out a laugh that sounded more manic than amused. “I guess getting kicked out the Air Force must agree with me.”

Radek’s smile faltered and John felt like an ass.

“I'm sorry,” he rushed. “I shouldn't have…I don't even know why I'm here. I shouldn't have come. I'll go. Just. Just forget you even saw me.”

John turned to leave, planning on hightailing it out of the fancy offices, buying the next ticket back to the US and getting spectacularly drunk on the plane. Radek’s hand shot out to stop him, curling around his arm in a way that managed to be supportive instead of stubborn.

“John,” he said softly. “I am sorry about the Air Force. I know how much it meant to you.”

_I had to pick up the pieces after you left him for it after all._

Radek didn't say those words but John heard them anyway. God, he was an idiot to have come here.

“Why don't you come upstairs to my office?” Radek offered. “The coffee here is excellent. You look like you could use some.”

John hesitated. He wanted to. Wanted to talk with someone who knew him before flying, who could prove to him that he was more than that but…

“Rodney is on a different floor.” Radek correctly guessed the source of John's hesitation. “We have found that we work better when we are not in each other's pocket.”

John smiled at that. “You and Mer always did have the best fights.”

“Is Rodney now.” Radek corrected gently. “Never Meredith. Not since…”

 _Not since me_ , John thought. Jesus, he'd really screwed up. But…he was here now. Maybe he could actually make things better.

He took a deep breath, eyes drifting to the sky that he could see outside the glass doors of the building - still there, he assured himself - and smiled at Radek. A real smile this time.

“Coffee would be great.”

* * *

The coffee Radek offered him really was excellent. John shouldn't have been surprised; even as a struggling student Mer had always prioritised coffee over everything else. John remembers cupboards filled with nothing but tasteless ramen and the finest beans they could afford. McKay Enterprises’ coffee put those beans to shame.

John would choose a cup of those old beans over these every time.

John had kept track of Mer’s - _Rodney’s_ \- career over the past twelve years, not that it was hard. When Time magazine named your ex-boyfriend as the man of the year for his contributions to science, it was hard not to notice. For the longest time, John had used that success as a prop to convince himself that he made the right choice. _See_ , he would say to himself, _see what he’s made of himself? You really think that he would have a Nobel at the age of 28 if you had stayed with him?_ John had used that argument and the way he felt when he was in the sky to cocoon himself in a fantasy land where, at the age of twenty-two, he hadn't the away the best thing to ever happen to him.

In truth, he wasn't entirely sure whether it _was_ a lie. But, after twelve years, he was ready to find out.

“I'm sorry,” John interrupted Radek’s tale of how he met his wife, “I really do want to catch up but..I want to see him. I'm ready to see him now.”

Radek set his coffee down on the desk and reached up to fiddle with the frames of his glasses. Radek may not have had glasses when John knew him last but he could recognise the tell. Radek had always fidgeted when he was building up the courage to say something that somebody might not want to hear.

“Maybe he is not ready to see you.” Radek's eyes were soft despite his harsh words. “You hurt him, John. No,” Radek held up his hand as John tried to interrupt, “I know you think that you understand what you did to him and I know that it hurt you also to do so but…you don't understand. You weren't there to see. You left, John. You left him and you left us, Carson, Miko and I, to get him through it. It was…” Radek shook his head. “I am glad that you have realised that you made a mistake. I am glad that you want to fix it, truly, but I am not so sure that Rodney is ready for you to be here.”

John gripped the coffee mug with both hands, letting the heat of it chase away the painful cold of guilt. It wasn't working. John pushed the mug away and stood up, walking towards the wall of photographs that had caught his eye the second he walked into Radek's office.

In amongst the framed certificates and pictures of his smiling wife and kids was an older photograph that might as well have been framed in flashing neon for how quickly John had honed in on it. A much younger Radek stood with his arm around Rodney's shoulder, grinning like a loon. The two of them were wearing cheap suits, Radek's looking like it dated back to the seventies, and were standing in front of a red corduroy couch in a California apartment that John was intimately familiar with. It couldn't have been taken that long after John had left, he knew enough about McKay Enterprises to know that they had rented their first lab space in Toronto six months after John finished basic training.

“That was taken on the day we decided to go into business together.” Radek had joined John in front of the picture. “We had both come from an interview with one of your government agencies where they tried very hard to persuade us both to spend the next forty years of our lives building weapons. We decided we wanted to build something else instead. So we built this.”

John could tell from Radek’s tone that it was a happy memory but, all John could see in the photograph were the circles under Mer’s eyes, the way a suit that John had seen him wear to John's own graduation less than a year earlier hung off his already too thin frame. Worst of all was Mer’s eyes. From the moment John had met Mer, he had been captivated by those eyes. Intelligence and passion had shone in them and grabbed hold of John and never let go. Not really. He'd known by the end of their first conversation that he would never get tired of looking into those eyes. All of that was missing in the photograph. Those once sparkling, flashing eyes were blank and bland and John had nobody to blame but himself.

“Radek.” John turned to look at him, his hand on Radek's arm. “I fucked up. I'm sorry it's taken me this long to own up to it and I know that it might not be something I can ever make right but you have to believe that I will do everything I can to try. This isn't just about me. I need to fix this for both of us. I won't run away again.”

Radek sighed heavily. He still looked unconvinced but John knew that he was going to take him there despite that.

“I will have something harder than coffee waiting for us when he kicks you out of his office.” John’s Czech was rusty but he was pretty sure Radek let out a string of curses after that. “Come on if you're coming. Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

John's stomach wound itself into knots as Radek led him into the elevator and pressed the button for the seventeenth floor. Stepping out onto the floor that Rodney had commandeered for himself, John was surprised to see the way barred by a man who was approximately twenty times more imposing than he'd ever expected a secretary to be.

“This is Ronon Dex,” Radek said to John. “Rodney's executive assistant.”

Executive Assistant, Personal Assistant, Secretary…whatever you wanted to call it, Ronon Dex looked like he could bench press John without breaking a sweat. It wasn't at all what he expected from Mer and, not for the first time, John was left to wonder if they were even the same people they'd been twelve years ago. John knew that he'd changed; combat would do that to you, but for some reason, he'd assumed that Mer would still be…well, he wasn't Mer anymore at all, was he? It was Rodney now.

“Hey,” Ronon's voice was impressively deep as he nodded at John before focusing his attention on Radek. “Didn't expect you up here today. Problem?”

“I would not class it as a problem exactly,” Radek hedged.

Ronon’s eyes swung back towards John, looking him up and down with suspicion. “This not exactly a problem? It got anything to do with you?” he asked John.

John held his hand out in greeting and only just managed to refrain from wincing as Ronon almost crushed it in his grip. Where the hell did Mer find this guy?

“John Sheppard,” he introduced himself. “I'm an old…I went to college with Radek and Rodney.”

“Huh,” Ronon tilted his head, “you don't look like a geek. I'd have pegged you for military. Air Force.”

“Good eye.” John was impressed despite himself. “You served?”

“Navy,” Ronon grinned. “At least, until I blew my knee out. Harpoon went right through it. Hurt like a bastard.”

“I'll bet,” John winced. “That's pretty hard core. You - -“

“Excuse me,” Radek interrupted the military talk with a raised eyebrow. “Perhaps now is not the time for military circle jerk. We are here for a reason, ano?”

The ‘reason’ chose that very moment to barge out of his office. “Ronon, can you call down to the desk and see if the courier has picked up the Cowen papers yet? Because I just got off the phone with their legal representative and if they think that they can intimidate me into hiring them then - -“

“Weren't you already sending their papers back unsigned?” Ronon asked, already calling down to the front desk.

“Yes,” Rodney snapped, “but now I'm going to send them back with ‘Not if you were the last contractors in the galaxy’ written across them in black marker.”

“They're still there,” Ronon said. “You want me to get Chuck to write that on them?”

“What? No! How long have you been working here? I want to write it myself. That's the whole point. Honestly.” Rodney whirled around, about to head back into his office as quickly as he'd arrived, not even noticing that there was anyone else there until Radek cleared his throat pointedly.

“Ah, Rodney? Perhaps we could have a moment of your - -“ Radek trailed off as Rodney’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of a ghost of boyfriends past.

John had been drinking the sight of Rodney in since the moment he'd stepped out of his office. His appearance shouldn't have been a surprise, John had seen enough photographs of the great Rodney McKay to not be taken aback by the way he'd filled out since John last knew him, his broad shoulders looking more balanced against the stockier frame. Somehow, though it _was_. He really had expected Rodney to be just the same.

His eyes, though, they were still the same. Blue and sharp, and showing every single thought that raced through his mind. After flitting from confusion to shock to awe those same eyes settled on a roiling anger that made John want to take a step back. He had to draw on every ounce of his military training not to retreat under the force of that anger.

“Hey, Rodney. Long time no see, huh?”

John supposed he deserved the fist to the face that followed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney reacts...badly and John catches up with Carson and Miko.

Somewhere in the past twelve years, Rodney had learned how to throw a punch. John reeled backwards as Rodney's fist struck his jaw, his training the only reason that he managed to remain standing at all.

“Hell, yeah. Now that's what I'm talking about.” Ronon had moved from behind his desk to manfully slap Rodney's shoulder in congratulations. It hadn't escaped John's notice that the move had also placed Ronon firmly in between Rodney and himself, a barrier to any retaliation that John could make - not that he would have. He suspected that he had Ronon to thank for teaching Rodney how to throw such an effective punch. In fact, he was beginning to harbour a lot of suspicions about Ronon, the most important being that he was much more than just a secretary.

John straightened himself up again, trying to resist the urge to rub at his jaw. He'd taken enough punches to the face over the years to know that it would bruise, rubbing it wouldn't make that any less true.

“I guess I deserved that,” he drawled, trying to lighten the tension in the air. “Don't suppose you've got any ice anywhere in these fancy offices, do ya?”

“Perhaps it would be better if we leave. I can get you ice somewhere else.” Radek spoke quickly, shooting a look that eloquently said ‘ _I warned you he was not ready_ ’ towards John.

“Yeah, I think that would be best,” Ronon agreed, making it clear by his tone that any argument from John wouldn't end well.

 _Yeah_ , John thought sourly, _definitely more than a secretary_.

John chanced a quick look at Rodney and noticed immediately the way he was breathing, deep and heavy like he was barely keeping it together. The fingers of Rodney’s right hand were clenched tightly around the sleeve of Ronon's shirt, whether for comfort or holding Ronon off, John didn't know. Either way, the sight was almost more painful than the punch had been. Radek had been right. This had been a bad, horribly selfish idea. Just because John wanted to make amends didn't mean Rodney wanted to hear it.

John nodded, accepting defeat. It was a good thing that he had plenty of practice at that. He let Radek grip his arm and half-drag him towards the elevator.

_“Wait.”_

Rodney's voice rang out and John planted his feet on the ground, causing Radek to stumble. He turned towards Rodney and waited while Rodney visibly fought for control. His eyes couldn't help but dart to where Rodney's hand was still grabbing at Ronon and Rodney flushed, unclenching the fabric and dropping his arm back to hang at his sides quickly.  

Ronon, for his part, just moved closer to Rodney.

“I can be professional,” Rodney eventually said - as if John hadn't just heard his plan to scrawl a passive aggressive note across contract papers in black marker. Rodney's chin tilted up, just like it used to, defying anyone to say otherwise. John had loved that demanding little head tilt back then, usually a precursor to watching Rodney decimate someone’s physics theory and prove his superiority. He used to do the very same thing when they were alone too, jutting out his jaw, lifting his head and demanding that John make him come. Now.

It had gotten no less attractive to John with age.

“Professional?” Radek queried. “What does professional have to do with - -“

Rodney ignored Radek, talking over him as his eyes bore into John's. “I presume you're here about the test pilot job.”

Radek sucked in a breath and muttered something unintelligible in Czech. John paid him little attention, his focus fixed on Rodney.

“Well,” Rodney demanded, “aren't you? I can't imagine any other reason you would be here.”

Rodney's face was shuttered, blank in the worst kind of way; the way that meant he'd slammed his defences up and retreated to safety. John had seen that look on Rodney's face - on _Meredith’s_ face - before, usually in defence from the worst kind of jocks and frat boys, the ones who thought a fifteen-year-old college freshman was fair game. Seeing it now…John knew he should bow out, had been ready to bow out, but…no.  He wasn't ready to quit on Rodney. Not again.

“Yes,” he answered, causing Radek to mutter unintelligibly again, “I am. Is our history going to be a problem?”

Rodney's blank look flickered just for a second, irritation and anger bleeding through at John's insinuation that it was _him_ who was being unreasonable here. John almost smiled at that slip, anything was better than the horrible blankness. It was still nice to know that he knew where Rodney's buttons were.

“I don't see why it would be,” Rodney answered bitingly. “It's your piloting skills that are relevant here and, well, we both know how important flying is to you.”

John winced. Rodney still knew how to use his words like a weapon and that blow stung.

“The Air Force didn't work out, I take it?”  Another stinging hit.  John knew, at least, that Ronon hadn't taught him _that_.

John shook his head, mouth tightening. “We had a difference of opinion,” he said. “They gave their orders and I chose never to leave a man behind.”

John had been explaining it that way in the weeks since it happened to the few who cared to ask, so much so that it had become a mantra in his head. It wasn't until Rodney's mask slipped to show a look of such raw pain that John realised what he'd said.

“Huh, well maybe you have changed. Leaving people behind never used to bother you.” Rodney threw the mask back up as quickly as it had buckled, nodding at Radek. “He's hired. Sort out his paperwork would you?” Rodney turned tail and retreated to his office, Ronon on his heels, and slammed the door shut behind them both.

John turned to Radek and smiled apologetically. “So, your offer of something harder than coffee still good? I think I could use it.”

“ _You_ could use it?” Radek scoffed. “ _I_ could use it. I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Hey, at least I got a new job out of it. It can't be all bad if he's willing to hire me, right? This is perfect Radek, I have a reason to stay here now. He can't ignore me forever, this will let me fix things. I just need more time.”

Radek sighed heavily. “What I need is vodka. And what you need is _ice_.” The elevator arrived. “Now, get in and, please God, we can can both get what we need.”

* * *

John really needed to breathe.

He tapped weakly on Carson’s back, causing the over exuberant Scot to release him from the fierce hug he'd been pulled into as soon as he walked into the doctors office.

“Ach, I'm sorry, it's just so good to see you,” Carson patted John's shoulder warmly before directing him to take a seat. “I'll admit that I was more than a wee bit surprised when Rodney told me you'd be coming in for your pre-employment check. Last I heard, you were in Afghanistan.”

John had been about to launch into his usual explanation - without the 'never leaving a man behind' bit, he'd learned that lesson - but stopped short at ‘Afghanistan’. “You keeping track of me, Carson?”

“Not me, no, I've not got the resources to - - “ Carson cut himself off, floundering for a bit before continuing. “I mean, yes. You know me, John. You lot always did call me the ‘Dad’ friend.”

They had and, despite John's own experience with Dads being less than stellar, it was true then and, from what he could tell, probably still true now. John had an idea of where Carson had really gotten his information and the thought of Rodney using his contacts to keep track of him these past twelve years, well John wasn't sure if he was happy or riddled with guilt at the idea. He decided not to dwell on it just now, pushing it to the back of his mind to think on another time. As much as this whole thing was about making things right with Rodney, he couldn't deny it was damn good to see Carson (and Radek) again.

“Best Dad I ever had,” John smiled, causing Carson to laugh.

“Aye, well, the practice I had putting up with you lot certainly helped when my own wee one was born, I can tell you that.”

“Geez,” John said, thinking of Radek's wall of family pictures, “you too, huh? Boy or girl?”

Carson beamed, thumbing open his phone and passing it over to John. “A girl. Siobhan. Looks just like Mum, thank God.”

She did at that, a grinning five year old with strawberry blonde hair. “You and Laura made it then. That’s great. I'm happy for you.”

“Aye, well, when you've found the one, you know it.”

John hummed in agreement. Knowing it and making it work were very different things but, just because his ‘one’ currently hated the sight of him wasn't Carson’s fault. John thumbed idly through the pictures, stopping on one of Rodney. It looked to have been taken at a kid's birthday party and little Siobhan was sitting on Rodney's lap, looking up at him with rapt attention. Rodney's arm was caught in a wave, as if he was gesticulating wildly. Knowing Rodney, he was probably attempting to teach her nonlinear equations or something equally ridiculous.

“He's good with them,” Carson said, noticing John's interest in the photo. “With Siobhan and Radek's brood. Claims to hate them all, of course, but we all know he'd do anything for them. He's funny like that.”

“Yeah.” John swallowed hard and handed the phone back to Carson. “I remember.”

Carson's face grew sympathetic. “Radek told me why you came here to Tornonto, John.”

John's smile grew tight. “Let me guess, you're going to warn me off too.”

“The very opposite.” Carson laughed at John's double take. “Radek's tying to protect Rodney's feeling and I cannae blame him for that but if you ask me, the sooner you two sort out your differences and reconnect - even if it's just as friends - the better for the both of you.” Carson leaned forward and spread his hands wide. “You have to realise that Rodney, well, he's never really gotten over you, John. I'm not saying that there haven't been other men over the years because there have.” John really didn't want to know about the other men, he'd seen enough of that in the way that Ronon and Rodney interacted, but thankfully Carson didn't elaborate. “But the fact is that none of them has sparked with him the way you did. And, I know we've only just reconnected but I saw your face when you were looking at that photo and I don't think you've ever gotten over him either. Am I right?”

John didn't answer and maybe that was answer enough.

“Aye, I thought so. Just, just be careful with this. Take it slow. For both of your sakes. Don't get hurt in a way that I cannae patch up.” Carson stood up at that and clapped his hands, turning business like for the first time since John walked through the door. “Speaking of my doctoring abilities, let’s get you looked at.  Starting with that jaw.  Radek told me about that, too."

Full medicals were no less traumatising when they were performed by someone you knew. If anything, they were worse. Still, it was nice catching up with Carson, even if he'd have preferred if that catching up hadn't come with a prostate exam. John had spent so much of the last twelve years resolutely _not_ thinking about how much he regretted walking away from Rodney that he hadn't had any time to think about how much he regretted walking away from the others. Radek, Carson and Miko. The five of them had been family back then. Chosen family; the best kind there was.  Certainly better than his own blood family.  Harder to walk away from, too. It had only seemed fair to let Rodney keep them. John had been the one leaving after all. All three of them had tried to keep in contact with John after he left but John let their letters mount up unanswered and, slowly but surely, they each took the hint and stopped trying.

Carson, of course, took the longest.

Maybe this second chance wasn't just about him and Rodney.

“You know,” he said as soon as he was fully dressed again, “I should really look up Miko while I'm here too. Do you have her details?”

“You've not heard?” Carson asked, surprised. “She’s on the McKay Enterprises payroll too. In fact, she heads up the design team of the project you'll be flying. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see you again.”

* * *

“Let me just make one thing perfectly clear before I introduce you to the team. Carson and Radek might be willing to forgive and forget for what you did but I'm not. If it were up to me, Rodney would have kicked you out of those offices and laughed in your face but, despite what you did to him, he's a better person than that. _Nothing_ you can do or say will make me forget what you did to him twelve years ago so don't even try.”

Well. That could have gone better. McKay Enterprise’s testing facilities were located approximately 26 miles (or 42 kilometres if he was feeling Canadian) outside of Toronto, near Preston Lake. John has made good time getting there for his first day and had been feeling pretty damn good, or at least as close to it as he had in a while, when Miko had met him at the front gates and it had all went to hell.

John and Miko had always had a turbulent relationship. If the five of them were like family back then, John and Miko were the squabbling siblings who sometimes needed to be separated for their own good. Of course, that didn't mean that they didn't care deeply about each other, it was just that sometimes things got a bit heated. Especially when it came to Rodney.

They had both loved him intensely and it had taken a long time for them to reconcile that fact, to accept that it wasn't a competition over who loved him more - no matter that Rodney didn't return the romantic feelings that Miko had for him. John supposed if it was a competition, Miko would have won. After all, she was still here, still in his life, while he had walked away. Now that he had thought about it some more, he wasn't really surprised at Miko’s reaction to him. He had done the one thing he'd promised her he'd never do. Hurt Rodney.

John accepted her ire and resigned himself to having another person to win over.

He spent his first day getting up to speed on the design schematics of the aircraft Miko’s team were working on. It was like nothing John had ever seen before and any disappointment he'd had at the realisation that there wasn't actually a craft ready for him to fly was eclipsed by his excitement at the plans. The blueprints alone were a pilot’s wet dream and knowing that the initial design was Rodney’s own only made it better.

The new aircraft was the main ongoing project but there were other aircraft that were in the final stages of testing before being given the all clear. Some of them were even going to the Air Force. In all John's reading about McKay Enterprises over the years, he'd never known that the company designed aircraft for military use. It was sort of wild that only a few weeks after being forced out he was flying Air Force aircraft again.

John had asked one of his new colleagues, a small slightly weaselly looking man named Gaul, at lunch about it. “Yeah, for years now. I don't know why the company doesn't publicise it but who the hell knows what McKay’s thinking at the best of times, am I right? He’s either as big a genius as he says he is or a total crackpot.”

“You don't know which?” John teased.

Gaul shrugged. “How could I? It's not like I've ever met the man. He never comes out here.”

John paused in his eating, his appetite suddenly gone - along with his grand plans of enough face time with Rodney to win the man around. “What do you mean he never comes here? Isn't this a huge project? Something tells me that he’s the sort of man that needs to keep his fingers in all the pies.” John was careful not to let on just how well he knew Rodney, not wanting to make a bad impression.

“Oh, he _definitely_ does,” Gaul snorted. “But Kusanagi goes to him.”

“She does?” John turned to glare at Miko who smiled sweetly at him, waggling her fingers in a sham of a wave.

“What's that I hear, John?” she stage whispered at him as she passed his table with her tray. “Is it the sound of your perfect plan falling to pieces?”

Of course that was the exact moment that Rodney chose to enter the cafeteria, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention.

“Alright team, Meeting Room 1; 5 minutes. I want updates.”

John felt completely justified in the victorious smile that he directed towards Miko.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where progress is made. Sorta.

Twice weekly meetings between Rodney and the aircraft team (Tuesdays at 3 and Fridays at 10) quickly became the norm. It was torture.

John's victorious smile hadn't lasted long that first afternoon, just until Ronon (who seems to be joined at the hip with Rodney, another facet to John's biweekly torture) had firmly closed the door of meeting room one in John's face, an unapologetic ‘design team only’ his only explanation.

For two weeks, John's only interaction with Rodney was limited to catching glimpses of him (and Ronon) as they swept in and out of the Preston Lake site. It was frustrating beyond words.

“What did you expect?” Radek said over a bottle of beer. The three of them, John, Radek, and Carson, had spent most of the afternoon painting the walls of the small flat John had rented in Scarborough. John was paying them in pizza and beer and regretting his decision to vent his frustrations. “Did you expect for Rodney to fall into your arms like nothing had happened?”

“No, but..”

“But you thought he'd be more receptive to at least allowing you a chance.” Carson always was good at reading him. “You might not realize it, John, but he _is_ giving you a chance.”

“How?” John let his beer bottle dangle from his fingers as he leaned forward. “I know he didn't need to offer me this job and I know that he's changed his routine with the whole coming up to Preston Lake twice a week but if he isn't even going to let me _speak_ to him then I don't see the point.”

Radek swore in Czech. John hadn't leaned much beyond the bad words but even that was rusty. There might have been something about a dove but who the hell knew. Luckily, Radek continued in English. “Have you forgotten who Rodney is? What he values above everything?” John must have looked as clueless as he felt because Radek sighed heavily. “Brains, John. You must prove to him that you have brains. It is how you got him to talk to you in college and how you will get him to listen now.”

John mulled the suggestion over. Radek was right in one thing, Rodney (or Meredith as he still went by then but John was trying to get used to thinking of him as Rodney) hadn't given John a second glance until he proved that he was more than a pretty face. John had been trying to flirt with Rodney since the first time he had laid eyes on him but it wasn't until he'd solved the extra credit equation that their math professor had put on the whiteboard during their first class that Rodney had returned that interest. Maybe Radek was right. John was warming to the idea.  After all, it had worked once before.

“But I'm not part of the design team. I don't get any face time with him, how am I supposed to impress him?”  

Carson handed him another bottle. “Nobody said it would be easy, son. The things that are worth it never are.”

* * *

 

Carson’s words proved false. Once John put his mind to this new plan, it was surprisingly easy to action. Twelve years of flying and fighting had almost made John forget that he had a double masters in mechanical engineering and applied mathematics but the experience he'd gained as a pilot put him in a unique position on the X-300 project, a position that he'd been too busy drooling over the blueprints or flying the latest batch of military craft to take advantage of.

John knew better than to go to Miko with his ideas - he'd had less luck changing her mind than he'd had Rodney’s - so a few choice suggestions to Gaul was all it took. John watched the design team filter into meeting room one that Tuesday afternoon and made sure to be waiting nearby. Sure enough, ten minutes later, Ronon opened the door and stepped out. He spotted John straight away, cocking an eyebrow in amusement at the way John was obviously waiting for the invite.

“How'd you know Gaul wouldn't claim the idea for his own?” Ronon asked.

John shrugged. “I figured he would. But I know Rodney.”

“Maybe you did.  You sure you still do?”

“Yeah,” John drawled, “I do. He knows his people and he knows what they’re capable of. He'd see through Gaul in a second.”

Ronon tipped his head in agreement. “Well, he came clean. Boss wants you in there. You coming?”

John pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against and tried very hard not to think about Ronon calling Rodney ‘Boss’ in bed.

Miko was glaring daggers at him as he walked into the room and Gaul looked pale and shaky; the way victims of Rodney's tongue lashings usually did. John ignored them both, searching out Rodney at the head of the table. Their eyes locked for a moment and Rodney nodded imperceptibly, finally giving an inch. John smiled as he sat down, pleased. It wasn't much, but it was something. He was a step closer to making things right.

* * *

“You're nowhere near making it right to him yet.”

“Nice to hear from you too, Laura”.  John answered his phone with bemusement, poking at the Kraft dinner in front of him, a rerun of Star Trek on the TV.  Laura Cadman had come barging into their college lives six months before John walked away from it, a strawberry blonde explosion that had taken one look at Carson Beckett and said ‘mine’.  John could understand that, had done almost the same thing with Rodney.  The only difference between the two of them was that Laura had managed to hold on to hers.

“Uh huh,” Laura sounded bored.  “You do realize that it will take more than being able to talk to him about airplane design, right?  As hard as it might be for me to believe sometimes, Rodney is a human being; with all of the feelings and emotions that come with it.”

John had never really understood Rodney and Laura’s dynamic.  It had been hatred at first sight which somehow, over the course of a weekend when the rest of them had been out of town, had morphed into a wary sort of mutual respect. 

John stood up, walked across the room, wedged the phone into the crook of his neck and pulled a beer from his fridge.  “It’s a multiphased plan,” he drawled.

“Yeah? “ Laura scoffed. “Well, it’s time for the next phase.  You’re coming round for dinner tomorrow night.  It’s our wedding anniversary soon and you know how much Carson likes throwing dinner parties.“

“Didn’t you guys get married in June?”  John may have been out of the loop for the past twelve years but Carson had been very thorough in his self-appointed role of catching John up. 

“What’s your point?”

“It’s August.”

“Yeah, well time is relative.  Look, are you coming or not?  You need to spend time with him socially if you have any hope of getting back together with him.”

John almost choked on his beer.  “Whoa, whoa, who said anything about getting back together?" The last thing he needed was Rodney hearing about that part of the plan and firing his ass.  "I’m just looking to make things right.”

“You and I both know that the only thing that would be even remotely right is the two of you together, Sheppard.  You can’t kid a kidder.   Tomorrow night.  Be here at 6 and bring something harder than beer.  I think we’ll need it.”

* * *

John had talked himself into and out of going on a never-ending loop since Laura hung up on him.  He knew that she had a valid point but a part of him was scared that it was too much too soon.  Since that first design meeting, he and Rodney had managed to start building a civil working relationship.  It wasn’t friendly, not exactly, but Rodney had started to look something more than angry, hurt or betrayed when he looked at John and, honestly, John didn’t want to lose what little ground he’d gained.

In the end, it was the thought of Rodney looking at him with something approaching the warmth he looked at Miko or Ronon with that had him knocking on the Beckett-Cadman front door.  
   
Carson and Laura lived in a good neighborhood that was doubtless attached to a good school.  The front yards were small but well maintained and several strangers waved at him from those yards as he pulled up.  Their fence was pale green though which was the only thing that stopped John from turning around and running for the hills, maybe yelling about pod people as he did.

Any thoughts of pod people disappeared as Laura opened the door, barefoot and barefaced, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and plucked the bottle of whiskey he was carrying out of his hands in place of a greeting before disappearing back into the house.

John shrugged and followed, closing the door behind him.  Wandering in the direction of what he assumed was the living room John almost knocked over a pretty brunette as they both tried to fit through the doorframe at the same time.

“You must be John,” she laughed as she righted herself, accepting his help gracefully.  “I’m Elizabeth, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 “Right, right, you’re Radek's wife,” John smiled.  John recognized her from Radek’s wall of photographs and spared a moment to mentally congratulate Radek on landing such a beautiful woman.

Elizabeth raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.  “Well, I try not to define myself so simply, but yes, I suppose that is one way to describe me.“

John’s smile turned into a grin, his mental congratulations to Radek kicking up a notch.  He liked her. 

Elizabeth’s eye sparkled, showing she wasn’t mortally offended by his simplification of her personage.  Leaning closer, she stage whispered, “I would suggest having a drink in your hand before you go in there.  Rodney only just found out you would be here.”

John groaned.   He was going to kill Laura.  “Thanks for the warning.”

As if summoned by his internal cursing of her name, Laura appeared beside him, a hostess tray filled with whiskey shots in her hand.  He downed one then kissed her on the cheek. 

“You look great,” he said, meaning every word. “And I am going to make you pay for this.”

Laura smiled in response, patting him on the cheek.  “Save it for your wedding toast, Sheppard. Now soldier up and get your bony ass in there.”

John put his empty glass back on the tray and followed orders.  Rodney’s glare seemed to be zeroed in on Laura more than him which was at least some good news.  The fact that Rodney’s shadow - Ronon - was there, looking approximately twelve feet tall and faintly amused, not so much.   He waved at the room and wished fervently for another drink.  Or the ground to swallow him up.  Either worked.  Neither happened.

* * *

It was a hot August night, the sun low enough not to blind them, so they ate in Laura and Carson’s backyard, a long wooden picnic bench set up on the grass.  John was sandwiched in the middle of it, Elizabeth on one side of him and Laura on the other.  Rodney, of course, was seated right opposite him in an effort to force conversation.  Rodney, being the genius that he was, had managed to circumvent Laura's plans by managing to avoid looking directly in front of him the entire time they were sat.

The lack of conversation between the two of them seemed to affect the whole table, lowering the temperature by about ten degrees.

Awkward small talk accompanied a beetroot salad and John had been on military maneuvers that were less tense than this.

Carson was just bringing out the lasagna when John’s foot accidentally grazed Rodney’s under the table and Rodney flinched with his entire body at the completely innocent touch. 

It was the last straw.

John climbed over the bench, almost knocking Elizabeth over again in his rush to get less air.  He ignored Carson’s pleading calls to come back and locked himself in the downstairs bathroom.

John leaned over the sink, gripping the edges tightly.  What the hell had he been thinking?  Rodney wasn’t ready to forgive him.  He _knew_ that and yet he had still let Laura push him.  No, that wasn’t fair, it wasn’t Laura’s fault, he’d  done this himself, she had just offered him enough rope to hang himself.

John pulled himself together, splashed some water on his face and resolved to offer his apologies and leave. 

Somewhere between leaving the bathroom and discovering Ronon standing just inside the front door locked in a passionate embrace with a woman John had never seen before, John ended up not offering his apologies and punching Ronon in the face instead.

The resulting scuffle brought everyone rushing in from outside.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  Rodney’s voice was louder than everyone else’s as usual.  “Ronon put him down.  We talked about this.”

“He punched me first,” Ronon defended, immediately following Rodney’s instructions and releasing John from the headlock he’d put him in approximately two seconds after John’s punch landed.

John straightened up, rubbing at his throat.  Damn, he’d thought he was in better shape than that.  “You were kissing her,” John pointed at the quietly amused looking woman.  “You’re lucky all I did was punch you.”

John expected Rodney to look devastated but, instead, he just looked confused. 

“Why would you care if Ronon kissed Teyla?  You don't even know her.”

John was the confused one now.  “Because, he’s your boyfriend and he was cheating on you?” he asked, suddenly uncertain.

A stifled guffaw of laughter sounded from his so-called friends.

John looked between Rodney and Ronon. “He’s…he’s, not your boyfriend?  You’re not his boyfriend?”

“No,” the woman, Teyla, answered for both of them, “he is my husband.  And Dr. McKay’s bodyguard."

John's body went cold with fear.“Excuse me, did you say, bodyguard? What the hell does Mer need a bodyguard for?”  

“After the kidnapping, the Board of McKay Enterprises found it - -“

“Kidnapping?” John knew he was shouting but couldn't bring himself to care. He turned to face his so-called friends, to face Mer who at least had the decency to look a little guilty.

“Enough silence,” he said. “You have all the reasons in the world to be pissed at me, I get that, I do, but,” John gasped for a breath, “Jesus, Mer, _kidnapping_? if you're in danger, I, I - - Look, I know you kept track of me all these years and I even think I know why.  I hope I know why.  Shouldn't I be due the same?  I need to know, Mer.  Just like you needed to know about me.”

Rodney nodded at Ronon who cleared the hall with a look until only John and Rodney were left.

It was time to start talking.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Rodney talk.

Standing in Carson and Laura’s spare room, John was acutely aware that the last time he was alone with Rodney was the day that he'd left. Twelve years later and not much had changed. He was still terrified beyond belief and he was still completely in love.

Just the thought that John might have missed his chance, that Rodney might not have even been alive to make things right to, was enough to make John's breath whistle in his throat.

Kidnapped.

He'd felt lightheaded since the word had been uttered and it wasn't getting any better now that they were alone; now that Rodney was standing six feet away from him, his arms crossed over his chest and - - fuck, John really needed to breathe.

“Hey, what - - Jesus, John.” Rodney's hand was warm on the back of his neck as John bent double, trying to draw air in. He let Rodney move him, pushing him on to the twin bed and forcing his head between his legs. “Stay there,” Rodney ordered. “I'm gonna get Carson.”

“No,” John gasped, clutching at the sleeve of Rodney's shirt. “No, I don't..I'm fine. It's just…”

Rodney still looked wary but he had stopped moving towards the door. That was the important thing. John nodded in thanks, dropping his hold on Rodney's arm as he worked to get his breathing under control. In…and out. In…and out.

“Thanks,” John attempted a smile. “That sucked.”

“Panic attacks do that,” Rodney replied, shortly. “Suck, that is.”

“You?” John asked.

Rodney nodded tightly. “Once or twice. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“You know what I want to talk about.”

Rodney scoffed. “Yeah. And it's all about what you want, isn't it? It was true then and it's true now. Why am I not surprised?”

John opened his mouth to - well, he wasn't sure if he was going to deny it or apologise but Rodney didn't give him time to do either, talking over him with a growing fervour.

“And yet, somehow what I want never really seems to factor into it. Not then and definitely not now. Does it matter at all to you that I'm not ready to talk to you? Does it?” He didn't wait for John’s reply, answering himself with a sarcastic laugh. “No. It doesn't. You broke my heart, John. You ripped it out, threw it to the ground and stomped all over it on your rush to get out the fucking door. It's all well and good that you woke up one morning and realised that you made a mistake twelve years ago..except that's not even what happened, is it? You didn't turn your back on them; _they_ turned their back on _you_. And, what? You didn't have anything better to do anymore so you figured you might as well come back and pick up where we left off. Good old Meredith, he’s probably been waiting on me this whole time. Well, screw you, John. Because I may not be sleeping with a Ronon - and where the hell you got that idea I don't even wanna know - but that doesn't mean that I'm not over you. Or that I haven't been under anyone else. Because I have.”

John took advantage of the pause for breath to intercede. “Mer - -“

“And stop fucking calling me that,” Rodney yelled. “You lost the right to call me that when you walked away. You lost the right to a lot of things that day.”

“I know,” John snapped. He sighed. “I know, alright? I just - - kidnapped, Rodney? Kidnapped? What the hell?”

Rodney sat on the lone chair opposite the foot of the bed and John could see every second of the past twelve years in his face.

“It wasn't as bad as you're probably thinking. I was only gone thirteen hours.”

John, who knew exactly what kind of damage could be done in thirteen minutes, didn't find that very comforting.

“It's not like I was off the grid for three weeks, four days, six hours and twenty-seven minutes.”

John definitely knew how much damage could be done in that time.  Had lived through it.

“So, you really were keeping tabs on me, huh? I gotta wonder why.”

Rodney shrugged. “You know me. I need to know everything. Besides, what were we just talking about? I'm not the one who walked away.”

“No,” John admitted. “But you were the one who said you were over me. You're also the one who claims not to want anything more to do with me and yet you offer me a job. You arrange for me to have permanent resident status here like it was nothing. You build aircraft for the American military when I _know_ what you think of them and now I find out that you've had, what, spies keeping track of me. You'll have to forgive me, Rodney, if I'm a little confused here.”

John had gotten to his feet at some point in his little speech and found himself pacing the room. Stopping in front of Rodney, he let his shoulders drop.

“What do you want from me? Please, Rodney. Put me out of my misery and tell me.”

Rodney looked him dead in the eye. “I want for you to have never left,” he said quietly, his answer a punch in John's guts. “I want the past twelve years to have been different. I want,” his voice cracked, “I want to put it behind me and make a fresh start with you. I want to be able to forgive you.” Rodney smiled sadly and shook his head. “But we can't always get what we want.”

“Rodney, I want that too, I - -“

“No,” Rodney cut John off. “You wanted to talk, so let me talk. It doesn't matter what I want. It doesn't matter what you want. Because the fact that remains that I can't trust you. You - it took me a long time to get myself back after you left. I'm not willing to put myself through that again, John.” Rodney stood up and walked over to the window, looking out over Laura and Carson’s backyard. The sun was starting to set and John could hear the sounds of their friends clearing the table; such an ordinary thing to do when John felt like his world was collapsing. Again.

“You know, during those thirteen hours I tried to think like you.” Rodney glanced back at John and huffed a laugh. “What would Major John Sheppard do? I read the report on your capture. The _real_ report. I know that you never told them anything and I tried to be strong like you were. I - -“ Rodney broke off, the silence heavy.

“You should have told me.”

Rodney scoffed. “What? Should I have called you up at 2 in the morning and breathed down the phone at you without saying a word? Did that make _you_ feel better?”

In John's defence, it had been after almost 11 am in Kabul when he had made that call, his head thick with painkillers and the smell of his own stink still thick in his throat.

“You knew that was me, huh?”

“Genius, remember? Besides, it's not like anyone else in Afghanistan would have been calling me.”

John had spent a lot of his time in captivity, those moments when he wasn't concentrating on not screaming, thinking about Rodney. He hadn't even known who he was dialling when Rodney's sleepy voice had answered the phone; he was operating on autopilot at that point, still not quite believing that his ordeal was over. He'd listened to Rodney go from confused to annoyed, snapping down the phone at his silent caller and promising to make their lives hell if he found out who they were. John had listened with a shaky smile on his face before hanging up without saying a single word. It had all seemed a bit more real after that; like he could finally accept that he was safe.

It had never occurred to him that Rodney would know it was him.

“Do you know who it was?” John asked. “Who kidnapped you?”

Rodney turned away from the window and leaned against the ledge, arms crossed over his chest. “No. Hence Ronon.”

“Right. Ronon.”

“He's good at what he does,” Rodney said. “And CSIS are working on it. I'm as safe as I can be right now.”

“Right. Safe.”

Another silence descended on the room. John was used to silence - he'd never been one for talking just to hear his own voice - but with Rodney in the same room it felt unnatural and wrong. It was just another sign that everything had changed between them. And John was starting to fear that he wouldn't ever be able to make it right. Sometimes wanting wasn't enough.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked Rodney. “How do we get from how things are to what we both want? Is it even possible?”

Rodney didn't reply straight away and John was starting to think he didn't have an answer; was getting ready to leave, to call a cab and hand in his resignation and - -

“There was no pilot job,” Rodney said quietly. “When you came to my office and - - there was no job but you were going to leave and I - - I couldn't watch you leave again.”

John thought about stepping forward but Rodney looked twitchy, a second from running, so he stood still, his fist curling up in an effort to stop himself from reaching out and touching, taking.

“I’m staying,” he promised. “Until you tell me to leave, I'm staying. I, Jesus, Rodney, I'll do anything it takes to win your trust back again.”

“That may take a while,” Rodney admitted, pushing off the window ledge. “But, I'm sure you can do it. If you really wanna try.”

It wasn't much, but it was something. John would take it.

Rodney walked towards the door, pausing with it half open. “I'll see you at Tuesday’s meeting?”

John nodded. “Yeah. Tuesday at 3. I'll be there.”

“Good. Good. Maybe we can get coffee afterwards? I could pick your brain about your ideas for the - “

“I’d like that.”

“Ok. So, ah, Ronon's going to take me home now. Tell Carson and Laura that we didn't kill each other for me?”

John looked past Rodney to see Ronon standing at the top of the stairs, waiting. Ronon's eyebrow was raised in query and John nodded at him, silently thanking him for having Rodney's back. Now that he knew they weren't sleeping together, he kinda liked the guy.

“I'll tell them,” John promised. “Just, could you, I mean, would you let me know you got home ok? I know it’s stupid but - -“

“Tuesday.” Rodney closed the door behind him and John listened as he and Ronon walked down the stairs and out the front door. John spent a few minutes pulling himself together before he left the room. Slowly, he wandered down the stairs and out into the back yard, accepting the beer Radek held out to him.

“You are better?” Radek asked.

John's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to read the two word text, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “I'm getting there,” he answered Radek. “We’re getting there.”

**Home. Goodnight.**

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Rodney have plans to meet on Tuesday but there's a weekend to get through first...

Tuesday.

It was funny how a little bit of hope made the three days of waiting seem interminable. John spent most of Saturday wishing that it was Tuesday already and the day passed without anything but a belly full of worry to show for it.

He decided to be more proactive on Sunday, starting his day with a ten mile run that made him far too aware of how much his body missed the ritual of military PT. It was probably the only thing about the military that he missed. He'd given the Air Force twelve years of his life and all he had left to show for it was Lorne - wherever he was - and a little less body fat than he would probably have otherwise had.

It wasn't much.

It wasn't enough.

John wouldn't let it be.

A phone call to Carson got him an address -John had correctly judged the Scot as the easier mark to get the information he wanted - and John found himself knocking on the door of a pretty decent looking three-storey townhouse just after 11am, brown paper bag of bagels in hand.  

He held them out as Ronon opened the door.

“A peace offering,” he said in place of hello. “Y’know, for the whole punching you thing. And the hating your guts thing.”

“You hated my guts?” Ronon sounded more amused than anything else as he leant against his doorframe, arms crossed. “I'm curious; is it because you thought I was doing McKay or because you thought he was doing me?”

The visual of both of those options was nearly enough to trip John up but he was starting to understand Ronon and judged that giving as good as he got was the way to go.

He smirked at Ronon. “Well, when I was with him, he was a pretty exclusive catcher if you know what I - -“

“Stop, stop,” Ronon's eyes crinkled up as he waved for John to stop. It took years off him, and John mentally revised his estimate of Ronon's age from only a few years younger than him to at least a decade. It made him feel marginally better about how easily Ronon had subdued him at Carson’s the other night. “That's way more information than I ever needed to know about McKay.” Ronon yanked the brown bag out of John's hands, opened it and stuffed a dry bagel in his mouth. “Come on in,” he said through a mouth of dough.

John followed Ronon through the door and along a narrow hall that opened up into a bright and airy kitchen, the back door open to a small but very green garden. Teyla - the woman from the other night - was sitting at a table in the garden, a mug of coffee in front of her.

She smiled warmly at him in greeting, drying up any apology he would have made at interrupting their Sunday. “Major Sheppard, it is good to see you again.”

John shifted nervously, not sure what to do or where to sit until Teyla pushed back a chair and indicated he should sit in it.

“Ah, yeah,” he sat awkwardly, “I promise there won't be any punching this time.”

“You were looking out for Dr McKay’s feelings,” Teyla smiled. “However wrong you turned out to be, that does not take away from your intent which was honourable. Neither Ronon or myself hold any grudges.”

“He brought apology bagels.” Ronon tossed the bag of bagels on the table along with a tub of cream cheese.

“We appreciate the gesture,” Teyla said kindly. “Can I get you some coffee, Major?  I was just about to make some for myself."

“If it's not too much trouble,” he accepted, shifting his chair to let Teyla squeeze past. “And, it’s, uh, you can just call me John.”

“It was my understanding that you retired from the Air Force? The rank you achieved should still stand, should it not?”

“No, it does. I guess I'm just trying to put that part of my life behind me, y’know? Its why I'm here after all. Fixing my mistakes or whatever.”

Teyla placed a heavenly smelling cup of coffee in front of him. “Well, I for one am greatful for your service, even if you consider it a mistake, Major. I will, however, agree to call you John only if you agree to call me Teyla.” She stepped back into the kitchen and picked up her own mug. “Now, John, Ronon, I’ll leave you two to talk.”

“You don't need to - -“

Teyla waved his assurances off. “I have plenty to occupy me, do not worry. I will see you before you leave, John.”

John watched her go, marvelling at how easily she had managed to own a room with two ex-military men in it.

“She always like that?” he asked Ronon.

Ronon grinned, happy and clearly in love. ‘From the moment I met her. But that's not what you came here to talk about, right?”

John shifted in his chair. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure how to start. Half of him had expected the door to slam closed on him, bagels and all.

Ronon took pity on him and pulled a buff coloured folder from under the newspaper that was folded on the table. John hadn't even noticed it before that moment. Ronon opened it and started organising the pile of papers into piles. Crime scene reports; photographs; witness statements….

“This is what you wanted to talk about. Where do you want me to start?”

John swallowed audibly as his eyes landed on a stark photograph of a broken and bruised hand, the fingers twisted painfully and the wrist raw and reddened from restraints. He'd know that hand in his sleep.

“Start at the beginning,” he said. “I want to know everything.”

Ronon didn't hesitate.

“January 18th. A Thursday. They took him between his front door and his car at around 6.45am. McKay and Zelenka had a 7.30 meeting; when Rodney hadn't appeared by 7.45 and wasn't answering his phone, Radek called Miko who swung by McKay’s house to check on him.” Ronon moved a police photograph of Rodney’s driveway to the top of the pile. “She found his car door open, a few drops of blood on the paving stone and McKay’s damn cat yowling at the window. Thing’s as big as a small dog, must have been a hell of a racket.”

“Frank?” John asked, surprised. Thirteen years ago, a whole twelve months before the end, John had came home with a kitten from a litter that some sophomore had been shilling out of a cardboard box on the street. He'd had no idea that cats even got that big, never mind heard of a Maine Coon before but Mer - Rodney - had been instantly smitten. John had rechristened him Frankenstein when he realised just how large the previously named Newton would grow. Rodney had ranted and raved at John over the name (which was half the fun) but it had stuck. John hadn't even considered the possibility that Rodney still had him.

“Yeah,” Ronon glanced at John. “I always did wonder how a guy like McKay ended up with a cat named Frank instead of Amadeus or Newton or something. It makes sense now.”

It made John strangely happy to know that Frank was still alive and still with Rodney. Who knows, maybe he'd even manage to wrangle an invite to meet the monster again.  But that was for another time.  He had other things to focus on just now.

“What happened next?”

Ronon leant back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head. “Police were called. Someone as high profile as McKay? They came in droves. Canvassed the neighbourhood, prepped Zelenka and the others for a ransom call that never came.”

“He rescued himself didn't he?” John asked, suddenly sure of it.

Ronon smirked. “He managed to let them know where he was, that's for sure. Hacked the damn traffic emergency system and broadcast the IP address of the computer they'd given him.”

“Never underestimate a geek,” John murmured. “How bad was it?”

Ronon shifted some more pictures to the front. “The hand, you saw already. Three busted fingers and pretty severe bruising.  They threatened to smash it unless he did what they asked of him.  He held out way longer than they expected, that's for sure.  There was a long knife wound on his left forearm, he's still got a scar there. A fractured eye socket, a concussion and two busted ribs.”

John sucked in a sharp breath at the photographs, Rodney's face swollen and purple and - he pushed the pictures away before he lashed out at something. Ronon took pity on him and sorted them back into the pile.

“And we have no idea who took him?”

“We?” Ronon didn't wait for an answer. “No. They wore masks the whole time. Rodney didn't recognise their voices and they all managed to escape when the cops stormed the place.”

“They left him alive? Why?”

Ronon closed the file. “It's just guess work, but the general consensus is that they might not be done with him. That's where we come in.”

“We?” It was John's turn to ask. "You sure Rodney would be OK with that?”

Ronon smiled. “Who do you think gave me the damn file to show you?”

“It's not yours?” John had just assumed it was Ronon’s, as Rodney's bodyguard.

Ronon shook his head. “I'm just his secretary.”

“What? But Teyla said - -“

“Officially, I'm just his secretary,” Ronon clarified. “CSIS put a man on him right after but soon decided that it was a waste of resources. His friends disagreed, so I was hired.”

“Any known attempts since?”

“Four.”

John almost spilled his coffee cup, his hands jerking in surprise. “Four? Why doesn't he have a damn army surrounding him? And how have I not read about this in the papers?”

“Come on, Sheppard, you know him. Nobody makes McKay do anything he doesn't want to do and he doesn't want to breathe the same air as those government monkeys. Hell, the only reason he lets me stick around is the fact that I actually do a good job on the secretary side of things.”

“Thought you were an executive assistant?”

Ronon smirked. “I'm a lot of things. And the reason it's not in the press? Nobody wants it to be. CSIS are trying to lull these guys into a false sense of security so they can strike again. A media circus would make that impossible.”

“Sounds like CSIS are going to wind up getting him killed,” John growled.

“It's my job to make sure that doesn't happen,” Ronon agreed.

“You like him.” John was sure if it, could tell by the way Ronon spoke and the way Ronon's eyes looked just as angry about the entire situation as John felt. “I mean, I know that your not - - whatever - - with him, but you like him. He's more than just a job.”

Ronon picked up his coffee cup and drank. “Yeah, well, he grows on you after a while. Kinda like fungus. You know that if you hurt him again, I'll kill you, right?”

John didn't have any trouble believing that Ronon really meant it. Rodney seemed to inspire a particularly murderous flavour of loyalty in those around him and with Ronon’s physical power, Radek’s brains, Miko’s cunning and Carson’s knowledge of the human body, he would be dead a hundred times over if he screwed this up again.

“If I hurt him again, you won't have to.”

“Good.” Ronon stood up and clapped John on the shoulder. “You seem a decent fellow, I'd hate to kill you.”

John grinned. “You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.”

“Alright,” Ronon lifted John up from his chair and jostled him to his feet, laughing the entire time. “McKay said I'd like you. Guess he was right.”

The knowledge that Rodney had said anything good to Ronon about him had John walking on air the rest of the weekend, all through an enjoyable afternoon watching The Princess Bride with a Ronon and Teyla, a Monday of Miko grudgingly starting to warm to him and all the way through to Tuesday when he very nearly blew it all to hell again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John fails at communication but it's ok, Rodney has his sources.

On Tuesday morning, John's cell phone woke him up sometime before 3 am, buzzing insistently.  He groped blindly at the empty space next to him, searching for the phone by touch alone, too tired to contemplate opening his eyes.  Tomorrow - or today - was the day that he was going to see Rodney and John had found himself struggling to settle his mind down enough to fall asleep, finally drifting off around 1.30am.   
  
_ Rodney. _   
  
John's eyes flew open in the sudden sure panic that something had happened to Rodney.  Those bastards had gotten to him somehow, oh god. He almost hit himself in the face with his phone in his hurry to answer.   
  
“What's happened?” he spoke into the phone with urgency but his words still came out half mumbled.  There was a slight pause on the line during which John let himself think the worst, a million different scenarios - all terrible - scrolling through his mind like awful headlines scrolling across an old microfiche.    
  
“Major John Sheppard?”   
  
John snapped to attention as the clipped tones of what could only be an officer from the USAF sounded over the line, breaking him from his fears for Rodney and filling him with a completely different kind of fear.   
  
“Retired,” he said, “but yes, this is John Sheppard.”   
  
“Major Sheppard, my name is Colonel Stephen Caldwell and I'm calling from Langley Air Force Hospital.  You are currently listed as the medical emergency contact for a Major Evan Lorne, is this correct?”   
  
John was wide awake now and already rooting through his wardrobe, the cell phone anchored in the crook of his neck by his chin.   
  
“Yes, sir,” he answered, the protocol of addressing a superior officer still ingrained in his system like he was Pavlov’s dog.  “How bad is it?”   
  
Colonel Caldwell seemed to appreciate the directness and followed suit, telling John in no uncertain terms just how bad it was.  John let his head rest against the cool mirror of his wardrobe door for just a second and tried to regulate his breathing.  Alive.  And likely to stay that way.   It was bad but not terrible.  John had seen the after effects of enough crashes to know just how much worse it could have been.   _ Jesus,  Evan _ .   
  
John listened to every word while packing his duffel bag efficiently.  Once he was done with that he flipped open the screen of his laptop and started searching for the quickest way to get to Virginia.   
  
“There's a flight from Toronto to Dulles at 5.30am,” John said after a few taps.  “I can be on it.”    
  
“We’ll have someone waiting at Dulles to bring you here, Major.” Caldwell signed off soon after confirming John's arrival time, leaving John a few hundred dollars poorer and close to his second panic attack in a week.     
  
John sat on the edge of his bed while he wrestled with the panic attack.   _ Evan is alive _ , he told himself,  _ he's hurt but alive.  This is not the same as Dex and Holland.  Pull yourself together. _ __  
  
He eventually did manage to pull himself together, although the edge of panic remained in his line of sight, just waiting for the opportunity to come flooding back.  A quick glance at the red light of his alarm clock told him that he needed to move fast if he wanted to make his flight and John cursed, picking up his bag and calling for a cab as he searched frantically for his keys.     
  
Somewhere in the chaos, he remembered to send a text off to Rodney explaining the situation, stuffing his phone back into his jeans pocket afterwards before boarding the flight.

His lack of sleep caught up with him as soon as they were in the air and John slept through the entire flight, only waking when the wheels hit the tarmac at Dulles International Airport.     
  
Walking out into the arrival lounge, feeling calmer and more awake than he had in Toronto, he started to dig for his phone when the polite cough of an airman interrupted him.   
  
“Major Sheppard?”   
  
“It's just John now, Sergeant.”  John was getting heartily sick of everyone using his rank.  “I'm retired.”   
  
“Yes, sir, of course.  I’m Sergeant Harriman.  Colonel Caldwell asked me to see you safely down to Langley, Sir.  Do you have bags that you need to collect?”   
  
John shrugged the shoulder that his duffel was slung over, jostling the bag.  “Just this,” he said.     
  
“Excellent. We can leave immediately.  If you'd like to follow me, Sir?”   
  
His phone forgotten, John followed the small Sergeant out of the airport to a waiting car.     
  
“How long to Langley?” he asked as he settled himself in the passenger seat.   
  
“A little over three hours, Sir.  I won't be offended if you fall asleep.  I hope you don't mind me saying, but you look like you could use it.”   
  
John huffed an approximation of a laugh. That was an understatement if ever he heard one.  He was asleep before they even left the airport car park.   
  


* * *

  
Lorne was awake and alert when John finally saw him, his right leg swathed in bandages from hip to ankle as he concentrated on a familiar paperback copy of War and Peace.  John smiled.  Maybe he'd get further through it than  _ he _ ever had.     
  
John had spoken to the doctor before entering the room and knew that Lorne had at least one more surgery and a long road of PT to go through but the prognosis wasn’t as terrible as it could be.  He leaned against the frame of Lorne’s hospital room door and forced a grin on his face.   
  
“See what happens when I leave you alone?”   
  
Lorne looked up from his book and grinned wryly at John.  “This book sucks,” he said, throwing War and Peace onto the overbed table.  “No wonder you never made it past the first fifty pages.”   
  
John grinned more naturally as he walked into the room and took the empty chair at Lorne’s left side (as far away from the leg as he could).  “Sucks to be you.”   
  
Lorne flipped him the finger in reply and shifted in his bed, wincing as he jostled his right leg.  “Don’t think that I’m not pleased to see you but what the hell are you doing here, Shep?”   
  
“It's good to see you too, Evan,” John drawled.   
__  
“John.”   
  
John sighed.  “I'm still your emergency contact, dumbass.”   
  
Lorne groaned.  “Caldwell called you.  He shouldn't have done that.  I'm sorry you got dragged all  the way out here for nothing.”   
  
“You and I have very different definitions of nothing.”  John gestured at Lorne’s injured leg.  “What the hell happened, Lorne?  I don't even know where you shipped out to.”   
  
“It's, ah, classified.”  Lorne cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. They'd never had to hide anything from each other on that front before and John was man enough to admit that the not knowing hurt.  “If it makes you feel any better,” Lorne continued, “there won't be any more classified missions I can't tell you about.”   
  
John read the rest in Lorne’s eyes.  He wondered if his eyes had looked that lost back in DC.     
  
“Medical discharge.”     
  
It wasn't a question but Lorne answered it anyway.  “Yeah,” he shrugged.  “Got any tips on how to be a civilian for me?”   
  
“Ev- -“   
  
“No.  Leave it.  It's- - I don’t want to talk about it yet.  Come on, distract me. What's going on with you anyway?  I haven't even been back long enough for them to give me my phone or tablet. You ever look that guy of yours up?”   
  
John huffed out a laugh.  “Yeah.  About that.  You might actually have a message from me on your phone about that.”   
  
Lorne grinned.  “Am I getting blamed or thanked?”   
  
“Still not sure to be honest.  It’s complicated.”   
  
“I got time for complicated,” Lorne smiled.  “Come on, Shep, what else am I gonna do lying here? I sure as hell won't be reading that damn book.  Spill.”   
  
So, John spilt.  He was interrupted midway through, kicked out of the room by a nurse who poked and prodded Lorne for a bit but then spilt the rest while pilfering the pudding cup that came with Lorne’s meal.   
  
“Wait, wait.  Let me get this straight.  You were  _ actually _ making some progress.  With the love of your life. The one who you walked out on twelve years ago.  The one you're  _ still  _ stupidly in love with.  And then you left.  __  Again.  In the middle of the night.”  Lorne picked up the long-forgotten copy of War and Peace and lobbed it at John's head.  “You dumbass.”   
  
“Hey!” John dodged the book.  “I left him a message, ok?  It's not the same - -“   
  
“Uh-huh.  And what did the message say?”

“It - “ John couldn't actually remember what the message had said, he'd been operating on too little sleep and too much adrenaline.  

“Something’s come up.  I gotta go.”

John thought he was hallucinating the sound of Rodney’s voice at first.  Even turning towards the door to see a supremely pissed-off looking McKay didn’t seem real.  It wasn’t until Lorne snorted in a mixture of amusement and horror that he started to realise that Rodney was, in fact, actually here.  In Virginia.  In a military hospital.

While John worked on his impression of a gaping fish, Lorne threw him under the bus.  “You must be Meredith,” he said.  “Shep was just talking about you.”

“Hmm, I heard.”  Rodney moved further into the room, carefully positioning himself on the opposite side of the bed from John. “And it’s Rodney now.  Rodney McKay.”

Lorne scoffed.  “Oh, believe me, I know who you are.  It’s funny but not once in all the times Shep spoke about you did he mention that you were the multi-millionaire CEO of McKay Enterprises.”

“Multi-billionaire, actually,” Rodney corrected absently.  He seemed preoccupied with the state of Lorne’s leg, his eyes sweeping the length of it.  “Will you walk again?” he asked.

Lorne blew out a breath.  “Well, he said you were blunt but, yeah.  Eventually.  My Air Force days are over though.”

Rodney nodded.  “I’d offer my condolences but I’m pretty sure someone who has a Masters degree in aeronautical engineering could be doing better things with their life than the Air Force.”

Lorne grinned.  “It was a dual masters.  You’re forgetting the art history degree.”

Rodney looked pained.  “I’m trying very hard to, yes.  When you get out of here, I want you to give me a call.”  He looked witheringly at John.  “I’m making a habit of taking in ex-zoomie strays at McKay Enterprises.  You’ll fit right in.”

It was Lorne’s turn to be gobsmacked.  Luckily, John chose that moment to find his words again.

“You’re here,” he said dumbly.  “Why are you here?”

“Something’s come up.  I gotta go,” Rodney repeated.  When John still looked dumb, he repeated it again, louder.  “ _Something’s come up.  I gotta go?_  Seriously?  That’s what you left me with?   I have been trying to call your damn cell since 5 am this morning but it kept going straight to voicemail.”

John fished his phone out of his pants pocket and found it dead as Rodney continued.

“Did you seriously think I would let you leave things like that?  You promised me just a few days ago that you weren’t going to leave again and then - - “

“I’m not leaving!” John defended himself.  “I left temporarily because something came up, yes, but I didn’t _leave_ leave.  I would have called you back later.”

“Well, I know that  _ now _ but it would have been nice if you could have told me that in your message.”

John stood up and started to pace.  “How did you even know where I was?”

“Please.” Rodney folded his arms in front of him and lifted his chin. “I’m a genius, remember?  I have my ways.”

“Oh my God, you put a tracker on me, didn’t you?”

“What?  No!  That would be a violation of your privacy,” Rodney bristled.  “I had your passport flagged.”

“You had my - - goddamnit, Mer.”

“ _ Rodney _ ,” Rodney gritted out between clenched teeth.  

“Fine.” John threw his hands in the air.  “Tell me, _Rodney_ , what are you doing here?  You didn’t come all this way just to offer Lorne a job.”

“I wanted to thank him for his service.”

“You’re Canadian!”  

“Fine,” Rodney snapped.  “You got me.  Far be it for me to want to come down here and make sure that you were ok.”

John paused in his pacing and looked at Rodney, confused.  “I wasn’t the one who was hurt.”

“No,” Rodney answered quietly.  “But you are the one who lost two of your men a few months ago.  And I know that you and Lorne were - are - close.  Excuse me if I thought that you might need a friend.”

All of John’s anger left him at that.  How could it not?  The two of them stood in silence, still on opposite sides of Lorne’s bed but John hadn’t felt this close to Rodney in (twelve years) a long time.  Rodney eventually ducked his head and cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed by his outpour and John’s obvious reaction to it.

“Hey,” John said gently, causing him to look up again.  “Thanks.  That’s, I mean, thanks.”

Rodney nodded slightly and another silence filled the room.  It was a different sort of silence; charged, pregnant with possibilities and as close as John had come to being happy in a very long time.

“Well,” Lorne clapped his hands together, breaking it.  “Shep?  I like this one.”  He grinned at John before turning to Rodney.  “Dr McKay?  I don’t say this to many people but..I trust you to look after him.  You’re good for him, I can tell. I’ve known John Sheppard for almost ten years and I have never seen him as affected by anyone as he is you.  His whole being comes to life.  If I hadn’t seen it - I would - - “

“Whoa - “ John interrupted, “I think it might be time for some painkillers.  The pain’s making you loopy.”

“Nah,” Rodney said, “it’s that arts degree rearing its ugly head.  Makes a man overly sentimental.”

John laughed, the full dorky donkey bray of a  laugh that most people never got to hear.  Lorne grinned widely as if his point had just been proven.

“Get him outta here,” he said to Rodney.  “And don’t bring him back until he’s had a full night’s sleep.”

Rodney didn’t take his eyes off John as he answered Lorne.

“Don’t worry, I got him.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Admit it, you’d be lost without me."

Rodney guided them both out of the hospital; his hand large and strong where it lay against John’s lower back.  John was hyper-aware of its presence the entire time, fighting internally against the warring instincts to lean into it; to melt into it and the equally strong urge to flinch away, carefully distancing himself from the physical contact the way the military had forced him to behave for twelve years.

He did neither, just held himself ramrod straight and let Rodney guide him with gentle touches until they were officially outside the bounds of Langley. Until they were safe.  John was just about to give in to the urge to lean into the touch when Rodney removed his hand.  

John missed the warmth immediately.

“Where are you staying?” Rodney asked; the first words either of them had spoken since leaving Lorne’s room.  

John hadn’t even thought about a place to stay; he’d been so focused on the 'getting down there' part of things - not to mention the 'not falling apart' part of things - that he’d neglected to think about what he’d do when he arrived.

His silence was obviously answer enough.  Rodney drew in a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh but obviously wanted to become one.  John didn’t like it.  He wasn’t used to Rodney censoring his reactions around him, not even out of concern for his emotional state.  This was the same person who had complained about John's window seat the entire plane ride to John's father's funeral back in college after all.

“I’ll take care of it,” Rodney muttered as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought up his contacts. 

John listened to Rodney’s half of the conversation with growing amusement and disbelief.  He’d assumed that Rodney was calling information for hotels but it became clear as the phone call went on that he was talking to a realtor.  Within five minutes he’d rented (or maybe bought, John wasn’t entirely sure) a beachfront property down at Buckroe Beach.

“Must be nice to be a multi-billionaire,” John mused as Rodney ended the call.

Rodney looked hurt for a second, which was the opposite of John’s intentions before his face settled into a familiar, but rarely directed at John, scowl.  “Yes, it is,” he said.  “I never want for anything.  My life is perfect.”

John didn’t bother answering that, just ducked his head in acknowledgement that his comment had made him sound like an ass.  It seemed to do the trick; Rodney’s scowl smoothed out and he awkwardly reached over to pick up John’s ratty canvas bag.

“Ronon will be here with the car in a minute,” he said.  “The house isn’t far.  You can get some sleep before dinner.  Ronon will bring you back here tomorrow if you want.”

“Ronon’s with you?”  John asked although he should have guessed that.  “And you’re staying?”

“I can work here as well as anywhere,” Rodney shrugged.  “It gets me out of the Genii meeting tomorrow.  Radek can deal with that headache for a change.  Who knows?  The sea air might even be good for me.”

John wasn’t fooled for a second.  Rodney was doing this for him.  He brushed his arm against Rodney’s in thanks before clearing his throat.

“So, ah, on a scale of one to ten..how pissed is Ronon at me for this?”

Rodney grinned, gleeful, at John.  “Eleven.”

* * *

The house that Rodney had rented was fully stocked when they arrived there half an hour later.  John had the funny feeling that someone else had been booted out the rental to make way for them but any guilt he might have felt at that disappeared as soon as he sat down on the mattress in the bedroom (there were five in the beachfront house to choose from).

He’d escaped into the bedroom almost as soon as they got there, needing the distance from Ronon’s silent glaring at him.  He knew a conversation was coming but he was happy to delay it as long as possible.  It had been a hell of a day so far and it was only mid-afternoon.  

The feelings and memories that Caldwell’s phone call had turned up - and the worry over Evan - had left John feeling like he’d just gone three rounds with his most hated drill sergeant from the academy.  The relief that Evan was going to be fine and the warm comfort of having Rodney and Ronon in the other room - even if Ronon wasn’t happy with him at the moment - only took so much of that edge off.  John was still perilously close to losing it and Rodney’s order to take a nap was sounding better and better with each passing second.  Rodney had promised (or threatened) to wake him up for dinner so John let the soft mattress and the squawk of the seagulls outside the french doors of the room lull him into a sleep that he hoped would be dreamless.  The last thing he needed right now was for his nightmares to show up.

His worry turned out to be baseless and John found himself blinking awake three hours later as Ronon banged his way into the room.

“Food’s up.  You should be too.”

John groaned, stretching his arms as he shifted to a seated position.  He hadn’t bothered to undress or get under the sheets which only made waking seem more surreal.  Daytime naps always did that to him; made him feel slightly out of phase with reality.

“You ok?”  Ronon’s voice deepened in concern.

John waved his concern away.  “Yeah, I'm fine.  Just...napping always throws me.  Not used to it.”

Ronon’s throat rumbled in agreement.  “Civilian life takes a bit of getting used to.  Been there.”

“Right.”  John stood up and stripped off his damp t-shirt, rooting around in his duffel for another.  Virginia in August was too damn hot.  Pulling the clean shirt on, he turned to find Ronon still watching him.  “I would have called you know.”

Ronon shifted, leaning against the door frame.  “I know.  I get it.  This guy was your team, your brother.  You had to come.”

“Yeah.  I did.  But you’re pissed at me for something.  Wanna tell me what?”

Ronon glanced back in the direction of the kitchen before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.  He paused, looking at John closely.  “I’ve heard the others talk about what happened when you left,” he said, pinning John with his gaze.  “About how Rodney was after it and I thought I knew but - - when he got that text and found out you’d boarded that plane...I’ve never seen him like that.  For the half hour it took for him to figure out what happened he was...let’s just say that I get it now.  I know you didn’t mean to hurt him, I’m not saying this to guilt you but,” Ronon trailed off, shrugging.  “I’m not pissed at you.  Not the you that’s here now anyway..”

John nodded. He understood what Ronon was trying to articulate. Hell, he was still pissed at himself for what he did back then too.  He probably always would be.

“So,” he clapped Ronon on the shoulder as he passed to show there were no hard feelings, “food?”

* * *

Rodney was multitasking as they walked into the open living/dining area, carrying on a conversation over speakerphone as he dished out the cartons of takeout into bowls.  

“I don’t give a damn, Radek.  I didn’t even want to take this meeting in the first place.  Cowen needs to learn exactly who he’s trying to strongarm.  Last time I checked, McKay Enterprises could buyout the Genii Corporation twenty times over.  If he thinks we can be intimidated into a partnership with them - - “

“I know, I know,”  Radek’s voice was tinny over the speakerphone but not even the poor sound quality could disguise the weariness in his voice.  “I am just telling you what he said.  I will make our position clear at the meeting tomorrow.  He is small man with small ideas.  I will channel my inner McKay and make this clear to him.”

Rodney snorted.  “Please, your inner McKay.  You’re just as vicious as I am, you just hide it better.”

John huffed out a laugh at that.  He couldn’t help it, it was true.  Many an evening he’d been entertained by Rodney and Radek viciously tearing apart the theories and papers of their fellow classmates.  Radek may have only said it in private but he was just as scathing as Rodney ever was.

“Is that John I hear?” Radek asked.  

“He just walked in,” Rodney answered for him.  “After sleeping all afternoon.”

“I am sure that he needed it,” Radek said. “We are all glad to hear that your friend will be all right, John.  Carson has some recommendations for physical therapists in Toronto that he would be happy to pass on.”

“Hmm, did you speak to HR about the official offer,” Rodney interrupted before John could thank Radek for his concern.

“Yes, Rodney.  You asked me to do it and I did it. They will have something out to him by Wednesday.”

“Good, good. Call me tomorrow after the meeting.  Now leave us in peace to eat dinner.”

“ _You_ are the one who called _me_ ,” Radek replied.  “But, yes, I will.  Have good dinner and I will see you both in a few days.  Goodnight John, Ronon.”

“Night,” John called out as Rodney ended the call. He turned to look at Rodney.  “So, you were serious about hiring Lorne?”

“I wouldn’t have made the offer if I didn’t mean it,” Rodney said.  “You look better,” he changed the subject and waved at the table.  “Sit.  Eat.  Your phone’s charged again by the way.”

John sat, flushing at the reminder of his dead phone.  “I would have called,” he said again.  

“Uh-huh.  Before or after you realised that you didn’t even have anywhere to stay down here?  Admit it, you’d be lost without me.”

Rodney had tossed the words out casually, joking, but John knew exactly how true they were.  He made sure his voice showed that when he answered.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I would.”

It was Rodney’s turn to flush. He swallowed hard and John watched his Adam's apple bob under the pale skin of his throat before Rodney composed himself, sitting straighter and pulling a bowl of noodles closer to him.  “Eat,” he said.  “Before Ronon finishes it all.”

John ate.  It was the best meal he’d had in a long time.

* * *

Screaming woke him up in the middle of the night.

At first, John thought it was his own screaming, that the nightmares, the PTSD that he was trying very hard to pretend he didn’t have, had taken hold again but as he scrambled out of the bed, he realised the sounds were coming from the room across the hall.  

Rodney’s room.

He arrived there at the same time Ronon did, throwing the door open to see Rodney asleep and unharmed but caught in the grips of a nightmare.  

“Jesus,” John breathed as a wary sort of relief washed over him.

“He gets them most nights since,” Ronon said quietly. He didn’t have to clarify since when.  

“Can you let me - - I want to - -”  John couldn’t put into words what he wanted to do but Ronon seemed to get it anyway.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” he said.  “Look after him.”

John nodded, already stepping into the room and walking towards Rodney.  He could smell the stench of nightmare sweat soaking into the white sheets and the small whimpers that Rodney’s screams had turned into were the worst noise John had heard in his life.

Carefully, he reached out.  

“Hey, come on buddy, it’s just a dream.  Wake up for me, Mer.”

Rodney resisted, almost as if the nightmare was refusing to let go. John shook him a little harder and the whimpers turned into a bitten off scream as Rodney jerked awake.  Panicked, he looked around the room, not recognising anything and shaking hard. A strangled sob escaped him and John’s resolve shattered into a million pieces. 

He climbed onto the bed next to him and pulled Rodney into his arms, soothing him with soft touches and crooning words.  Rodney’s hair was wet with sweat, the tips curling at the nape of his neck and at his temples.  John didn’t care, running his hands through it as he grounded Rodney in the way he wished there was someone to ground him when he woke the same way.

“You’re safe.  You’re ok.  I’m here.”  John repeated the words over and over until Rodney was quiet again.  He’d stopped sobbing now but made no attempt to move out of John’s arms.  John was glad of that.  He wasn’t ready to let go.  Not yet.

“They threatened to smash my hand,” Rodney said quietly into the dark room.  His voice sounded raw.  “In my dreams, they do.  And the knife,” Rodney shuddered, “I didn’t - - I broke, John.”

“You survived,” John moved so he could look into Rodney’s eyes.  “You stayed alive and found a way to let help find you.  You did everything right, Mer.”

Rodney’s breath hitched at the old name but the correction didn’t come this time.  If anything, he moved closer, pressed harder against John.

“I thought they were going to kill me.  And do you know what my biggest regret was?”

John knew what his own biggest regret had been when he was in the same situation.  Walking away from Rodney.

“It was letting you walk away,” Rodney continued softly.  “It was issuing you that ultimatum.  The military or me.  I should have gone after you.  I said horrible things to you that day.  I didn’t mean any of them.”

“I know you didn’t, Mer.  I should have - - “

“No.” Rodney cut him off.  “I’ve let you take the blame for that day for too long.  We were both wrong.  Young.  Stupid.  I wish I could go back to that day, that moment and do everything differently.”

“You and me both,” John said. His lips brushed lightly against Rodney’s temple as he pulled him closer.  The small taste just made him want more; made him want _everything_.

“John.”

“I’m sorry,  I shouldn’t have.  I - - “

Rodney’s finger pressed against his lips, silencing him.  “John,” he said again.  “Please.”

“Jesus, Mer.”

_ “Please.” _

John swallowed hard and nodded, dropping his head until his face was level with Rodney’s; until their lips slotted easily together in a kiss that was soft and desperate and twelve years too late.

“Stay with me,” Rodney said quietly.  “Just to sleep.  Please.  Keep the dreams away.”

John pulled him closer and settled down to sleep.  It should have been a long time coming.  John hadn’t slept next to someone in so long, it should have kept him awake for hours, the breathing and shifting and the feel of limbs entangled with his own should have felt foreign and strange.

It didn’t. It wasn't.  None of that happened.  It wasn’t awkward.  It was like coming home.

  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before

John had fallen asleep the night before with a pretty good idea of how his morning would start. He would wake up before Rodney - three years of sleeping next to him in college and the only time Rodney had ever been up before him were those mornings when he hadn't even gone to bed; staying up in the lab, or working all night - and, instead of going for a run on the beach like he'd initially intended, he would let himself indulge in something he never _really_ believed he would ever get the chance to do again; he would watch Rodney sleep.

John had loved to watch Meredith sleep; had loved to see his usually animated features slack with the peace that only came from true rest. The usual cliche was to say that a person looked younger when they slept but it wasn't true of Meredith. When Mer slept, John could almost see the man he would grow into. The hair, the mass of blonde curls that John loved to run his hands through would fall back off his face and John could see- even then - the beginnings of a receding hairline that he wanted to map with his lips. Mer’s mouth - so active when he was awake, rarely staying silent or still - would flatten down in sleep, crooked on one side. John had always guessed that the slant would get more pronounced as Meredith aged and it had never occurred to him that he wouldn't be there to watch it happen. Lying awake and cataloguing the way Meredith’s face would change had been a promise to his future self. A promise to be there for every step of it.

What was it they said about promises?

John had broken those long-ago promises but if he was lucky when he woke up, he'd have close to a half hour where he could look as much as he wanted before Rodney woke up and told him that last night was a mistake never to be repeated.

He was wrong on both counts.

John woke up to the feeling of fingers strumming gently against his hip. The loose fit boxes he wore to bed had slipped just low enough on one side for the touch to border on indecent and his cock was starting to take an interest, feeling full and heavy between his legs.

“I used to love to watch you sleep,” Rodney murmured, causing John to open his eyes. “Late at night, when I got home from the lab and you'd be sacked out on the couch or our bed, I'd just sit there for a few minutes and watch you sleep, drool and all.” He laughed quietly at the memory. “You always looked like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders, you'd get this, this little line in between your eyebrows and then I'd - I’d reach out like this,” Rodney’s hand continued to move gently on John's hip, “and the line would smooth out and you'd smile. Yeah, just like that. I don't know what it means that it still works. Something good I hope.”

“Rodney.” John shifted against the covers, moving closer, half afraid that Rodney would retreat.

Rodney didn't retreat. He moved with John, pressing himself closer, close enough that John could feel the weight of Rodney's own hardness against his leg.

“Last night wasn't a mistake,” Rodney said. “At least not for me. I would understand if - -“

John didn't let him finish, shutting him up by taking Rodney's mouth into his own, morning breath be damned.

The kiss started sweet and lazy but soon turned harder, more demanding and John broke it before he found a way to screw this up all over again.

“Not a mistake,” he managed between heavy breaths. “I am _so_ on board with that. But, and I hate to be the one who says it - -“

“We should take it slow.” Rodney took the words right out of his mouth, his mouth quirking upwards in wry amusement. “I agree even if I hate myself a little for it.”

John rolled onto his back, breaking contact with Rodney, and laughed at the throbbing heat between his legs. “Yeah. I think at some point in the past twelve years we’ve both become masochists but I wanna do this right. I'll put up with a little blue ball for that.”

A heavy pounding on the door interrupted whatever Rodney was going to say in response.

“Visiting hours start in thirty, breakfast’s ready and Zelenka won the betting pool on when McKay would finally cave and let you both be happy.” Ronon’s booming voice had them both sitting up and alert, reminding them - or reminding John at least - that the world existed outside this room. “Oh,” Ronon’s voice turned teasing, “and I used up all the hot water; figured you could both use the cold shower.” He rapped at the door again in a loud tattoo that made John want to beat him over the head with a baseball bat, it was so reminiscent of his wake up calls during basic training. “Up and at ‘em soldiers!”

John exchanged an amused glance with Rodney as they heard Ronon wander in the direction of the kitchen.

“I really should go visit Lorne again,” John said, smiling regretfully. “I know he seemed OK yesterday but this medical discharge has to be hitting him hard.”

Rodney waved off his regret with flapping hands. “Go. I, uh, I have my own things to be doing. Emails and whatnot. Ronon can drive you there and just give him a call when you're ready to come back.”

John wasn't sure if it was a good idea for Ronon to leave Rodney here alone while he drove John back to Langley and it must have shown on his face. Rodney’s eyes rolled heavily. “I'm in a different country,” he said. “And I flew here in my own private jet which, yes, you can fly us back in when you're ready to leave. I know your licence is valid.  The chance of whoever took me before even _knowing_ that I'm here is infinitesimal. Stop worrying. That little line is coming back and I don't have time to chase it away right now. So, go. And tell Lorne that my people will be in touch soon.”

John knew he was right. He also knew that he would never stop worrying though. Not until they'd found out who was behind this and neutralised the threat to Rodney. Still, he didn't want to ruin this before it had even started so he let it drop.

“I think I’ll probably be good to fly back day after tomorrow,” he said. “There's not much I can do here beyond a certain point and I think Lorne could probably use some time to himself to process before he gets his marching papers without me crowding him. Is that ok? Can you stay here that long?.”

Rodney nodded. “I'll be here for however long it takes.”

Another sweet kiss, filled with promises that John really hoped he'd get to keep this time.

“To be continued tonight?” he asked.

“Tonight,” Rodney agreed.

* * *

Ronon was as unhappy with the idea of leaving Rodney alone in the house as John had been. Unlike John though, Ronon actually managed to guilt Rodney into riding with them. He was like some kind of Rodney whisperer. John needed to learn how he did it, even if he had to beg Ronon to teach him.

At least it meant that Ronon wasn't able to give the lecture John had been expecting. The one about breaking Rodney's heart again and exactly what Ronon would do if that happened. Although, when he thought more carefully about it, Rodney's presence was hardly likely to deter Ronon; he'd just give the damn speech anyway, Rodney's outraged squawking might even make it more fun for him. He caught Ronon’s eye in the rearview mirror from his position on the back seat next to Rodney and Ronon flashed him a wide, happy grin and winked. Maybe, John thought, there would be no threats. Maybe Ronon was happy for them.

It was a strange feeling to get everything you had ever wanted, handed to you on a plate. John could get used to it.

Evan, of course, had known that something had happened straight away.

“It's about damn time I saw you happy,” he said as soon as John walked in the door. “Just one question, what the hell are you doing here instead of spending time with the person who put that smile on your face?”

“Keeping your lame ass company,” John grinned. He settled in the chair beside Lorne’s bed and pulled out the chess board he'd pilfered from the beach house. “But if you'd rather go back to staring at four walls….”

Evan made gimme motions at the board and the two of them soon found themselves embroiled in a pretty evenly matched game of chess. It was something they'd done during downtime while they were stationed together. They hadn't always had a board but it had never much mattered. They'd once spent seven hours on standby, each in their own cramped helicopter just waiting to be deployed, playing chess in their heads; each keeping track of the board and its pieces perfectly in their mind. The Air Force liked all of their pilots smart but Evan was the first officer John had served with that could keep up with him. Maybe that's why Evan was the only officer that he gave a damn about keeping up with now that he was out.

They spent the day like that, heckling each other at chess and keeping Evan’s mind off the fact that his military career was over. Rodney’s HR department was obviously more efficient than even Rodney knew; the official paperwork to put Lorne on the payroll came through not long after lunch, a nurse bemusedly delivering the inch thick sheet of papers to Evan’s bed.

“Whoa,” Evan blanched when he saw the salary. “Is he serious? This is ridiculous.”

John just smiled goofily, earning a whack over the head with a pillow.

“I changed my mind,” Evan laughed. “You're both ridiculous. You deserve each other.”

It was a good day. John was glad for it. Evan would be going in for one last surgery tomorrow; he needed a good day. John left around 1600 with the promise that he'd be there to see Evan before he went into the operating theatre tomorrow.

Ronon and Rodney picked him up outside the front gates and they drove the short distance back to the beach house. Rodney had accidentally left his phone there (Rodney without his phone was almost as scary as Rodney without his coffee) and he spent the entire ride urging Ronon to drive faster in case he missed Radek’s call about how the Genii meeting went.

“Wasn’t that before lunch?” John asked.

“Yes!” Rodney sounded surprised that John had remembered. “It was. It should have been finished at least two hours ago and if that weaselly Czech has let them browbeat him into promising them anything…”

“You'll what?” John teased. “You love Radek. He's like the brother you never had.”

“Are you - - take that back!” Rodney sputtered. “And if you _ever_ say that in front of him I'll get Frank to sit on you.”

John laughed at the image. Frank had been big when John had last seen him twelve years ago and by all accounts had only gotten bigger since.

“I can't wait to see him again,” John grinned. “I can't believe you still have him. Who’s watching him?”

“Miko,” Rodney answered, looking pleased. “Fair warning, he'll make you work for his affection.”

Just like his owner.  John smirked.  “I would expect nothing less.”

Ronon pulled into the drive of the beach house and enlisted John's help in bringing the groceries that he and Rodney had bought before picking John up into the house while Rodney disappeared to check his phone.

John knew as soon as they walked in that something was wrong.

Rodney's face was white as ice, the phone shaking in his hand as he gently lowered it back on to the desk.

He looked up at John and Ronon, his eyes filled with horror.

“What is it?” Ronon asked the question that had stuck in John's throat. “What's happened?”

“It's Radek,” Rodney said. His voice was tight with guilt and John knew what he was going to say before he said it. God, he hoped he was wrong.

He wasn't.

“He's..he's missing. He never came back from that meeting and he isn't answering his phone and - oh God - Elizabeth has a GPS tracker on their car and they found it in the middle of nowhere with - -“

Ronon saw it coming before John did and dived for the waste bin, passing it to Rodney just in time for him to lose his lunch.

When the heaves were over, Rodney looked up at John with wide eyes.

“It was them, I know it. The people who took me. They have Radek.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun Dun DUUUUUUN! ArwenOak totally guessed in the comments what was gonna happen with Radek. Kudos!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt is on.

They flew back to Toronto that evening.  Evan had waved off John's apologies about missing his surgery, telling him not be an idiot and to let him know how things turned out.  John hoped he'd be giving him some good news soon. 

Rodney's private plane was a thing of beauty but John couldn't enjoy it, not under those circumstances. They landed on the tarmac at around 2000 hours and headed directly for Radek’s house where everyone else was holed up waiting for news.

Elizabeth gathered Rodney in her arms as soon as they walked through the front door and quietly assured him that Radek’s disappearance wasn't his fault. John agreed with her, he and Ronon had spent the past few hours trying to tell Rodney the exact same thing, but he wasn't sure he could have managed such grace in the same situation. He was struck, once again, by how much he liked her.

Elizabeth was soon joined by Miko (and Frank) and between them, they managed to usher Rodney into the kitchen where they would hopefully ply him with food. Neither John or Ronon had been able to get Rodney to eat anything since he'd thrown up and John hoped they would have better luck.

Assured that Rodney was in good hands, he followed Ronon into the living room where Carson, Laura and Teyla were waiting. Teyla stood as they came in, smiling at John and embracing Ronon warmly.  Despite the height difference, Teyla brought hers and Ronon's foreheads together in a gesture that was so intimate that it made John's heart ache. He wanted to touch Rodney like that, to wrap him up in his arms and assure himself that he was with them, whole and unharmed, but now wasn't the time for that.

Leave no man behind.

John hadn't left anyone behind in twelve years and he wasn't planning on starting again now.

“Any news?” he asked, taking a seat, although he doubted there had been anything since they'd last asked when they landed.

Carson shook his head, his face tight with worry. “Nothing,” he said. “They don't have any leads.”

“Like hell they don't,” Laura interrupted with a fierce scowl.

Ronon and Teyla broke apart and joined the conversation. “Genii,” Ronon said. “The last time anyone saw Radek he was heading to meet with them.”

“Aye, but the police already spoke to Cowen. He’s saying that Radek made it to the meeting, it lasted around forty minutes and then he left. The police checked the security cameras in the Genii building and they confirm his story.” Carson rubbed a hand across his face, sounding bone tired as if they'd had this conversation a few times already.

“Bullshit,” Laura spat. “Just because he left the building before they took him _doesn't mean it wasn't them_. You think they'd be stupid enough to leave a trail? We already know from last time that they're smarter than that.”

“The police are’nae even sure that this disappearance is connected to Rodney’s.”

Laura levelled her husband with a look of such disbelief that John almost laughed. He agreed with her completely.

“What about CSIS?” he asked. “Didn't they get involved with Rodney's disappearance? What are they saying?”

“They are not saying anything.” Teyla’s lips were pursed in disapproval. “Until they can be sure that the abductions are related they are letting the police department handle this.”

John tried very hard to resist the urge to punch something. He took a deep breath in, held it for a second and let it out. “What do we know about Genii?” he asked the group.

It was Rodney's tired voice that answered him. “They’re a midsize tech company that specialises in weapons design.”

John turned to see Rodney, Elizabeth and Miko coming to join them. Rodney was still too pale but he looked better than he had earlier. John shifted over in his oversized chair, making room for him. It was a tight squeeze but he needed the closeness.

Elizabeth’s eyes were rimmed with red but she held herself tall. Frank was cradled in her arms, the huge cat curled defensively around her. That damn cat always had been smarter than any feline should be. He took up position on her lap as Elizabeth sank into the loveseat opposite John.

“ _Specialise_ ,” Miko spat, perching on the arm of the couch. “The only thing they specialise in is poor quality and substandard design. Even if McKay Enterprises did work with weapons we would never work with them.”

“Which is what Radek was meeting with them to say,” John said, just get to straight things in his head.

Rodney nodded. “Yeah. They've been… _persistent_ in their proposals to work with us. Phone calls and emails weren't getting the message across so I arranged to meet with them, hopefully make them understand once and for all that…” he trailed off hopelessly.

“When did they first approach you?”

Rodney frowned, trying to remember. “I can't…it was a while ago, I'm not sure how long.”

“Ok, let me put it another way. Was it _before_ or _after_ your kidnapping?”

Rodney's eyes went wide as he realised where John was going with this. “Before,” he said. “But I’ve spoken to Cowen, I would remember his voice. He wasn't there.”

“Doesn't mean anything,” Ronon said. “People like that, he wouldn't have got his hands dirty himself.”

“When did you first refuse them?” John asked. “Before or after?”

“Before.” It was Elizabeth who answered. “A week or two before.” She caught John's eye, still stroking Frank gently. “I remember because we were just back from Prague. We had spent the New Year there visiting Radek’s family.” She looked at Rodney. “Radek came back from work one evening with a copy of your response to their proposal.” She smiled weakly. “He said it would amuse me, that it was you on your finest form. Sometimes I wish I could talk to the diplomats I mediate for that way. You went missing, were taken, a week or so later.”

“Maybe they didn't want to accept no for an answer,” John mused.

“But they haven't accepted no for an answer,” Carson interrupted. “They’re _still_ trying to work with McKay Enterprises through legal means. Surely they wouldn't still be doing that if - -“

“They would if they were desperate enough,” Laura interrupted. “I love you Carson but you're too slow to accept that some people aren't as good as you are. I'm not saying Genii are definitely behind this but it's a lead that should be followed.” She softened her words with a hand on Carson’s arm, squeezing gently.

John rubbed gently at Rodney’s back. “You're awfully quiet there, buddy,” he said. “You know them better than anyone here. Are they capable of this?”

Rodney was quiet for a long moment, the room silent as the rest of them waited for him to weigh in. Frank wriggled out from Elizabeth’s arms and padded heavily across to him, leaping into his lap and settling down. Rodney started to pet him immediately. As if Frank had given him the courage, Rodney finally answered.

“The, ah - - the thing that they wanted me to work on - the kidnappers that is. It - - It isn't the same as the designs that Cowen keeps sending but….”

“But what, Mer?”

“But I can see how it could be related. I mean, now that I'm thinking about it in that frame of mind, with the idea that Genii could be behind….its sort of like having to get the aerodynamic equations right before you can design an aircraft. Miko’s right; the plans Cowen keeps sending are flawed but if I had done what they asked of me, it could have been the precursor to getting the right plans for something similar.” He looked up at Elizabeth. “I'm so sorry. If I had even suspected that - “

“This is not your fault,” Elizabeth said, interrupting him, wiping tears from her eyes briskly. “This is so very not your fault. So,” she looked at John and Ronon, “what do we do now?”

Ronon answered simply. “We find him and bring him home.”

* * *

Like most things in life, it was easier said than done. The police had brushed them off with a polite but ineffectual “we’ll take it under advisement.” John couldn't really grudge them that response, they didn't have any hard evidence after all, just conjecture. Still, he knew in his bones that they were on to something.

A few hours later and he was even more sure. Miko’s hacking skills had unearthed enough dodgy dealings surrounding Genii Corporation that not even Carson could argue that they weren't capable of something like this.

That didn't bring them any closer to finding where Radek could be though.

“You should get some sleep.” Rodney startled at John’s approach and John winced in apology, rubbing his hand across Rodney’s neck. He could feel the tightness in it from spending too long bent over a laptop and started to massage the tension out.

Rodney groaned appreciatively and they stayed like that for a few minutes. John wished they could stay like that forever,

"I keep racking my memories,” Rodney said quietly. “Trying to remember anything about that day that would help. But all I can remember is the fear and pain. I hate that Radek has to go through that.”

John brushed his lips across the top of Rodney's head without stopping the massage. “Radek’s tougher than he looks. He can survive this.” He paused. “Could he do it; what they were asking you to do?”

Rodney sighed wearily. “Probably. Eventually. Not as fast as I could though and that's what worries me. What if they grow impatient with him? What if - -“

John could see that Rodney was starting to slowly work himself into another panic attack and cut him off with a firm squeeze of the neck. “Don't do that,” he said. “Don't think about the what if’s. If anything, the slower Radek works, the more he draws this out, the bigger the window he gives us to find him. It's only been ten hours. You were gone thirteen. Come on, why don't you try to get some sleep? You'll feel better for it, I promise.”

Rodney nodded his acceptance and was starting to rise when his phone buzzed. Grabbing it, he looked apologetically at John. “That’ll be Major Carter,” he said. “She has access to military satellites and owes me a favour. It's a long shot but I should take this.”

John nodded, trying not to get his hopes up. Rodney answered the call and frowned. Concerned, John raised an eyebrow in query.

“Bad reception,” Rodney mouthed and pointed to the door indicating he was going to try in the other room. Miko called his name at the same time and John sighed, kissing Rodney's cheek and waving him off before he went to see what she had for him.

Miko had a lead. A good one. Her investigation into Genii Corporation’s holdings had led her to a shell company, Kolya Land and Properties, that owned the patch of land adjacent to the abandoned building that Rodney had been found in all those months ago. It was as good as confirmation to John that they were right, that Genii were behind this. Miko quickly went about tracking down any other holdings that the company had, while John, Elizabeth and Carson cross-referenced them with a list of derelict and abandoned buildings.

Forty-five minutes later they were left with a list of four possibilities within a 50-mile radius of Toronto. For the first time since learning of Radek’s disappearance, John was feeling positive.

He looked around for Rodney, wanting to share the good news and frowned when he couldn't see him. Laura was sitting at the laptop Rodney had been at earlier and John called over to her. “Hey, you seen Rodney?”

“Earlier,” she said, yawning. “He was just getting off the phone. Said he was headed to bed under your orders. I could do with a nap myself. I don't think he'd mind being woken up with good news though.”

John grinned, pleased that Rodney had followed his orders. He stood up, back cracking, and headed into the hall, making his way towards the bedrooms. Rodney wasn't in the first room he looked in, or the second. Unease started to grip John as he pushed open the door to the third and final spare room.

It was empty.

Well, not quite empty. There was a sheet of paper lying in the middle of the bed, torn from the front of a paperback book, a random author’s dedication “to someone special, you know who you are” typed prettily above the blocky handwriting that John immediately recognised as Rodney’s.

‘ _I’m sorry,_ ’ the note said. ‘ _I have to. They’ll kill him if I don’t_.’

The phone call. It wasn't from Dr Carter. John gave in to the temptation he'd been holding off from for hours and punched the wall, watching the plaster crumble on to the carpet in a shower of white dust.

Rodney was gone. They had him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescue

The crunch of the plaster under John’s fist brought everyone running. John had a moment to feel relieved that Radek and Elizabeth’s kids were (at the urging of the police department in case of a ransom call) spending the night with Elizabeth’s Mom; at least he hadn't woken them up. It wasn't much to be grateful for but it was something.

John didn't even have to tell them what had happened; one look at his face and they all seemed to know. Ronon grabbed the note out of his hand while Carson quietly excused himself to go and get the first aid kit.

“How the hell did this happen?” Ronon cursed.

“His phone,” John said. “He - we were talking and his damn phone rang.” John shook his head, furious at himself. “He said he was expecting it and that he wasn't getting a good line so he headed into the hall and then Miko - - I shouldn't have let him out of my sight.”

Ronon looked like he was about to agree with him, his eyes blazing, but Teyla intervened with a gentle hand on his arm. “You couldn't have known,” she said to John. “We are amongst family here. There was no need to fear for any of our safety.” She turned her gaze to Ronon. “After all, as his bodyguard, you were assured of his safety here too. Enough to leave him unattended.” Ronon's mouth, which had been opened and ready to retort, snapped shut and he sighed, nodding at John in an apology that John wasn't sure he deserved. “The only blame to be made here,” Teyla continued, “lies with Genii.”

“We’re sure it's them then?” Carson asked as he came back into the room with a first aid box in his hands. “And you,” he said to John, “let me look at your hand. You've hurt it, I can tell.”

John held it out without comment, earning a concerned look for his troubles. He was aware of the conversation going on around him, the various voices laying out all the supporting evidence they had unearthed that pointed squarely to Genii. It seemed unimportant. Knowing who it was didn't bring them any closer to finding where Radek and Rodney were being held. The shortlist of abandoned properties they had come up with was something but it would take the best part of a day to search each one. And how would they even know where to start?

Dimly, he was aware of Miko leaving the room and coming back, confirming that Ronon’s car was missing.

“Don't suppose you have a GPS tracker in it?” Laura asked.

“It's a fifteen year old Ford,” Ronon said in reply. That was a no.

“Here,” Carson’s hand on his shoulder brought John back to awareness a bit. “That's your hand wrapped. It's no broken, thank god for small favours. You hurting yourself isn't going to help anybody.”

John nodded in thanks, flexing it under the bandage. He'd had worse. He could still fight if it came down to that.  That was what was important.

“Elizabeth, what did the police say?”

John raised his head at Carson’s question, shaking himself back into awareness. He hadn't even realised she had called them and he needed to be present if they were going to get Rodney - and Radek - back.

Her eyes flashed with anger as she answered. “They said that they would send someone back out to talk to Cowen again. _Tomorrow_. They also said that they would have someone from their computer labs verify the Genii connection with those properties.”

Punching the wall again was starting to sound like a really good idea. John and Miko may have had their issues in the past but he knew that her hacking skills were light years beyond almost anyone else’s. It would take the police days, possibly weeks to backtrack the trail.

“So,” John stood up, everyone’s eyes moving to him, “it's up to us. The addresses that Miko found are our best bet. Anyone have any ideas on how we can prioritise them?”

“The phone call,” Miko said, looking at John. “You said that Rodney left to take a call.”

John gritted his teeth. “Yes. And I now know how stupid I was to believe him, OK. Believe me, you can't be any more pissed off at me than - -“

“No, no,” Miko held her hands out in apology. “That's not what I - - who did he say he thought it was?”

John thought back, trying to remember. His eyes widened as he remembered the flash of hope he'd had to stamp down when Rodney told him. “ _Satellites_ ,” he exclaimed. “He was waiting on some Major calling him back - I can't remember the name.”

“Major Carter,” Miko’s eyes were shining brightly as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “It's a long shot but she just might do it.”

“Might do what?” Carson interrupted. “What’s going on?”

“ _Satellites_ ,” Miko grinned as she waited for the call to connect. “If Sam - Major Carter can access the satellites to look at each of our possible locations she - - _Sam!_ It’s Miko. We have a situation.”

John watched Miko separate from the group to take the call, a determined look on her face. He saw the rising hope he was starting to feel echoed on the faces around him.

“If we do find the location,” Elizabeth said. “What then? The police won't believe us.”

“We could call in something,” Carson said. “Anonymously. Say we heard gunfire or - -“

“All of these properties are out with Toronto’s jurisdiction,” Miko said, shaking her head. “We would just be getting whoever the local police sent killed.”

“So, what do we do then?” Carson asked.

John and Ronon exchanged a look and Ronon grinned widely at the agreement he saw on John's face. “Then,” Ronon said, “we kick some Genii ass.”

* * *

John would have to ask Rodney later what sort of favour he was owed that a US Major was willing and able to direct military satellites to find him. Major Samantha Carter had come through big time for them, the satellite surveillance pictures showing two parked SUVs and Ronon’s battered Ford at the second of the four locations they had listed as possibilities.

They had a location. Now they just had to come up with a plan that wouldn't get them all killed.

They weren't exactly going in with much in the way of weaponry. John had never been comfortable with how easy it was for civilians to get a gun in the US but what he wouldn't give right now to be able to walk into Walmart and buy an arsenal.

“Who needs guns when you can have explosives,” Laura grinned. She then proceeded to blow John's mind by making portable explosives and flash bangs from items she found in Elizabeth’s pantry and garage. “Chemistry, my dear Sheppard,” she taunted. “Or did you forget what my doctorate was in?”

“If you weren't married I would kiss you,” he grinned back. “So, that's Ronon’s three guns, your explosives and..” he looked at the assembled items in confusion, “fighting sticks?” He raised an eyebrow at Ronon. “Do you have any idea how to even use those?”

Teyla stepped forward and picked up the sticks, twirling them in the air gracefully before striking out at John, forcing him to take a step back.

“I do,” she said plainly. “I can also shoot, as can Laura.” She raised her chin, looking defiantly at John and Ronon. “You are not the only two here who would seek to do this. Nor are you the only two with the capability to do so.”

Ronon grinned fiercely at her, pulling her in for a quick and dirty kiss. John guessed that meant he was on board with it. He looked at Carson; Carson, who had been the hardest to convince of this in the first place; expecting him to be approaching apoplexy at the thought of his wife, the mother of his child taking part in this but he was surprised to be proven wrong.

“You’ll be needing a doctor too more than likely,” he sighed. “I'll no be carrying a gun and I'll be staying out of the line of fire but, once you've got the situation handled, I’ll be needed.” He must have caught the look of surprise on John's face because he smiled sadly. “You're no the only one who cares about them, John. We’re family. It's what family does.”

John nodded, his throat thick. "For family," he said.

The word was echoed back to him by everyone.  

"Family."

* * *

It was approaching dawn by the time they arrived at the dilapidated single-story warehouse forty-two miles west of Toronto. Radek had been gone for sixteen hours and Rodney for five. It felt longer than that; days longer.

They had parked the van a quarter mile down the dirt track that led to the warehouse, leaving Carson there with an open line to Elizabeth and Miko back at the house. Any concerns John had about Laura or Teyla’s abilities were silenced by the way they approached the house, sticking to the shadows that the slowly rising sun created. In truth, they were probably moving more quietly than either Ronon or himself.

John held his fist up when they were close, signalling them to stop. With pantomimed motions, he directed Teyla and Ronon to the east while he and Laura took the west corner of the building. The windows were large enough to enter through but dirty, years of filth accumulated on them, and broken in places. John could hear voices coming from one mostly broken window ahead of them and he paused outside it.

A course of relief flowed through him as he recognised both Rodney and Radek’s voices. ( _Alive, thank God_ )  There was one more voice he didn't recognise but he knew better than to assume that meant there was only one other person there.

Right on cue, Ronon's voice sounded in John's ear, courtesy of the radios that Elizabeth had pilfered from Radek's workroom. It paid to be surrounded by geeks sometimes,

“I have eyes on the east side,” Ronon said. “Two guards. Easy pickings. No sign of Radek or Rodney though.”

“I have ears on them,” John whispered back. “Just about to try for visuals.”

Laura nodded at him, gripping her gun firmly. John took a deep breath and raised up just enough to peer through the broken panes of glass.

“You try my patience, Dr McKay.”

John gritted his teeth together as the owner of the other voice appeared in view. The man was older than John by maybe fifteen or twenty years but big, solidly built. His face was pockmarked and hard, not a face to be messed with. John wanted to put a bullet through it.

The man was leaning over Rodney, partially blocking him from John's view but he didn't need a clear view to know that it was Rodney, not when Rodney's mouth was running a mile a minute, spitting vitriol at the man, wielding his words like a weapon. John didn't know whether to laugh or cry, torn between feeling pride and wishing that Rodney would shut up and not make it worse for himself. The man - _Kolya_ , Rodney was calling him, like Kolya Land and Properties - grew tired of Rodney's words and viciously backhanded him across the face.

Rodney's cry of pain was almost enough to snap John's resolve but he pushed it away. Now wasn't the time to be Rodney's… _god, he didn't even know what he was to Rodney_. Lover? Partner? That guy he kissed yesterday? Whatever he was to Rodney, it had to be pushed aside. All he was right now was a soldier. It was what he needed to be to get through this.

John tore his eyes away from Kolya and Rodney and let them sweep the room, memorising the hiding places and defensible spots. Tied to a chair about ten feet to Rodney and Kolya's left was Radek. John had a clear view of him and did a quick visual inspection, noting the dirt-streaked pants, at least two broken fingers and - - when he got to Radek's face he noticed that Radek was looking right at him with wide eyes.

John brought his finger to his lips in caution and Radek nodded minutely. His eyes shifted nervously to his right, where Kolya was still menacing over Rodney, before settling back on John. Carefully, despite the obvious pain involved in moving his hand, Radek flashed four fingers at John.

There were four of them. John quickly surveyed the rest of the room and caught a flash of movement just outside his line of sight, in the corridor outside the room he was looking in. _That must be the fourth,_ he thought.

He nodded his thanks at Radek, offering him a quick smile that he hoped was reassuring.

Ducking back down to crouch on the hard dirt outside, he spoke over the radio. “Two more here,” he said. “Four total.”

“Plan A then?” Teyla's voice sounded steady and sure. He could practically hear Ronon’s smirk over the radio.

Laura grinned wickedly at him and John couldn't help but grin back.

“Plan A,” he agreed.

Laura dug in her vest, extracting three homemade flashbangs. On John's quiet count of three, she threw them through the broken window, Ronon doing the same on the other side of the warehouse.

_“Go, go, go.”_

Cries of surprise and alarm sounded from within as John gave the order, shooting a quick burst of bullets through the window for cover as Laura used her covered arm to clear it of enough broken glass that they could step through.

John had been part of many operations like this in his career and the funny thing about each and every one of them was how quickly they were over. It wasn't like the movies. You didn't see everything from multiple angles, didn't see Ronon and Teyla easily dispatch their two targets, didn't see the grimace on the targets face as your bullet caught them in the shoulder, shattering the bone. There was no time to linger on details, there was barely any time to think.  You reacted on instinct and adrenaline and did your best to stay alive. It was less than thirty seconds of shooting and screaming and noise and then it was over.

Usually.

Ten seconds into the assault, three targets were down and Kolya was holding Rodney by the neck with a knife to his throat. John’s breath was coming in heavy gasps, his adrenaline kicked up to eleven.

“You're surrounded,” he shouted at Kolya. There was no need to shout, not really, but his ears were still ringing from the retort of bullets in the empty echoing space of the warehouse. “You've already lost, Kolya. Put the knife down.”

Kolya smiled at him, the smile stretching the pockmarked face into something grotesque. He took a step back, pulling Rodney with him and digging the knife in just a bit until a bead of red blood appeared, as if by magic, on Rodney's neck.

“That may be so,” Kolya said. “But I can ensure that we both lose. So easily.” He yanked Rodney more forcefully until he was struggling for breath with Kolya’s arm around his neck, although John noticed that he had managed to get his chin down which would ensure that Kolya couldn't cut off his air completely. “All it would take is an ounce of pressure. And Dr McKay’s blood will be on your hands.”

Ronon and Teyla had joined them from the other side of the warehouse but Kolya had angled himself cleverly and John could tell that they had no cleaner a shot than he or Laura had. Just when John's frustration was about to boil over he caught a look between Rodney and Ronon. A look that clearly meant that they were communicating something. Ronon’s eyes blazed fiercely and his hands tightened on his already raised gun as if he were about to fire despite the almost certainty that he would hit Rodney.

John was about to call out, to yell at Ronon to _back down damnit_ when two things happened.

First, Rodney's hands, which had been clutching for purchase at Kolya’s dropped down and he threw his elbow back, aiming squarely at Kolya’s groin before directing it upward to Kolya’s face. Second, as Kolya loosened his grip and reared back, Ronon’s gun fired, the bullet hitting Kolya in the centre mass and dropping him like a stone.

And then it was over.

Just like that.

John rushed forward to meet Rodney, his eyes and hands raking over him to see where he was hurt. Rodney's hands were just as busy, touching John as much as John's were touching him.

“I'm fine,” Rodney murmured, “just bruises, I'm fine.”

He might only have some bruises but John could feel Rodney shaking under his touch, shocky and pale,  and he wouldn't be happy until Carson had cleared him. John knew he would have to stop touching Rodney - r _eal, solid, alive Rodney_ \- for that to happen though and that was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

He could hear his team - his family - around him; Laura and Teyla helping untie Radek while Ronon secured the four captors and spoke to Carson over the radio, telling him it was safe to call the police now.

John let them handle it, trusted them to handle it and pulled Rodney into a proper hug, burying his face against Rodney's neck.

“You are never allowed to leave me again,” he whispered. “Never.”

Rodney gripped him back just as fiercely, his hand in John's hair. “Look who’s talking,” he said fondly. “I won’t if you won’t.”

John laughed stupidly against Rodney's neck. “Never again,” he promised. “You're stuck with me. For good. That ok with you?”

Rodney pulled back and smiled at him, his shaking all but gone.

“I think I can deal with that.”

John pulled him close again, not letting go until the sound of sirens approached. Reluctantly, they let go of each other and waited for the police to arrive, ready to give an honest account of exactly what had happened and hoping they didn't end up arrested.

The police, first the local police, then Toronto police, then later CSIS had a lot of questions. Somewhere around the seventh time John was telling his story, just as he was starting to get pissed off, his eyes wandered around the room and caught sight of Rodney.

Rodney, who was being interviewed by another agent and obviously well passed getting pissed off and well into pissed as hell, paused as if he could feel John's attention on him. His eyes met John's and his entire face softened with a look of such affection, such love that John completely forgot what he was supposed to be pissed about.

He'd succeeded in righting the biggest wrong he'd ever made, had gotten everything he'd ever really wanted back. He was lucky as hell.

Turning back to the officer, John smiled pleasantly and repeated his story for the eighth time. He could do this all day. After all, he had his whole life ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you know that post that goes around comparing the 'writing death scenes in your head' Boromir death scene from LOTR with 'writing death scenes on paper' gif of John Cleese or someone just going 'I'm dead'? That's how I feel about writing this chapter, lol.


	11. Ten Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue - ten months later.

John pulled his tie off as soon as he stepped through the front door, tossing it in the direction of the laundry room.  It fell short and ended up tangled in the front paws of Frank, who had padded over to greet him as he arrived home.  Frank let out a plaintive mew at the tangle of silk tie against his feet, sounding for all the world exactly like his owner did when he woke up to find the coffee pot empty.

Groaning, John reached down and lifted both Frank and the tie off the floor, dumping one in the laundry basket as he passed and letting the other cuddle into him.  

“Is that you?” Rodney’s voice called out from the kitchen.

“No,” John answered, earning himself a glare when he entered the kitchen.  Rolling his eyes, he let Frank down to go and investigate his water bowl.  “Don’t ask stupid questions if you don’t want a stupid answer,” he said.  “Who else would it be?”

“It could have been an axe murderer,” Rodney started listing possibilities on his hand while John raided the fridge for a water, “ or a burglar, or a kidnapper, or Radek.”

John chuckled.  “I’ll be sure to let Radek know he rated a mention.  And no more kidnappers, not after the Genii got put away, we promised.”  He put his water down on the island counter and took the stool next to Rodney.  “How did the flight go today?”

“I know for a fact Lorne called you this afternoon and raved about it,” Rodney said. 

John grinned.  It was true, Lorne had kept him on the phone for close to a half hour orgasming about the new experimental aircraft McKay Enterprises had built, the one John had a hand in designing.  He had almost been late for his fifth-period class.

“Yeah,” John took a pull of his water, “but I didn’t ask how Lorne thought it went, I asked how _you_ thought it went.”

“You know, you wouldn’t need to ask me how it went if you hadn’t gone and quit,” Rodney grumbled.  

John rolled his eyes, not paying him any attention.  His decision to leave McKay Enterprises after the kidnapping trial had been a sore spot for a while and the cause of more than one argument between them, but it had been six months and even Rodney had to grudgingly agree that it was the right decision.  It didn’t stop him mentioning it at every opportunity though.  John wouldn’t be surprised if Rodney still mentioned it twenty years from now.  John grinned around his bottle.  Twenty years from now.  He had thought that so casually with absolutely zero doubt that he and Rodney would still be together that far ahead.  If someone had told him a year ago that this is where he would be, he’d have kicked their ass for toying with his feelings like that.

“The flight went perfectly,” Rodney continued.  “Not as perfect as it would have if you were flying her,” he pointed out, “but Lorne did an adequate job keeping her in the sky.”

John stifled a laugh.  “High praise, I’ll have to tell him you said so.”

“What about you?  How many young minds did you mould today?  Or, should I ask how many detentions you gave instead?”

No matter what Rodney said, John knew that he was secretly proud of his decision to get his teaching licence and teach high school math.  Rodney had never said it directly to John - had, in fact, taken every opportunity to whine about the waste of a great mind teaching snot-nosed brats who didn't deserve him - but at the last swanky business thing he’d accompanied Rodney to he had overheard Rodney tearing Peter Kavanagh, CEO of Morons ‘R Us (that wasn’t the company’s real name obviously but it was all Rodney ever referred to them as and John had long forgotten the _actual_ name) apart in his defence of John’s profession and the need for great teachers to shape the future.  

The funny thing about being with Rodney was that it wasn’t his words you needed to listen to, even if the words were abundant and constant.  It was his actions.  It was the way that he had sent John a bouquet of red pens on his first day, or the way he left surreptitious sticky notes on John’s lesson plans, suggesting ways to make the lesson more fun.

Life with Rodney was everything John had ever imagined it would be, even if he had to wait twelve years to get it.

“Hey, are you remembering that we have dinner at Miko’s tonight?” Rodney asked, poking him in the side and dragging him out of his thoughts. 

“I’m surprised you do,” John teased.  “Super secretary strikes again?”

“One of these days, you’re going to slip up and call Ronon that to his face and I’m going to be there to say I told you so,” Rodney said.

John grinned, shrugging. The fact that Rodney had all but begged Ronon to stay on as his secretary - sorry, executive assistant - after the Genii business was finished never failed to amuse John.  The fact that Ronon had agreed never failed to _bemuse_ him but the situation seemed to work for both of them so who was he to judge?

“I remember,” John said in answer to the original question.  “Lorne reminded me when he called earlier.”  

Lorne and Miko starting a relationship had been one of the weirder things to happen in the past ten months but they seemed happy together.  It had actually helped John and Miko’s relationship too, even if she was still - in John’s eyes - way too interested in Rodney’s personal life to be healthy.  The squabbling sibling dynamic was definitely still there but it had softened from what it used to be.  She had only threatened to cut his balls off if he hurt Rodney again three times in the past six months which had to be some kind of record.  Lorne found it sweet and hilarious which just went to show that there was no accounting for taste.

Rodney and John pulled up outside Miko’s apartment complex a couple of hours later, twenty minutes late, having lost track of time somewhere around the point that Rodney had started to strip for his shower.  

Rodney had kept him updated with the string of filthy accusations the group text chain was flinging at them, imagining why they were so late while John drove, causing John to nearly lose control of the car more than once.  

Elizabeth had a deliciously dirty mind, which combined with Miko’s talent for prose made for some scenarios that John definitely filed away for later.

John was half out the car when he realised that Rodney hadn’t even unbuckled yet.  Frowning, he settled back in the seat, pulling the car door closed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Second chances,” Rodney answered enigmatically.  “Fate.  Encores.”  He was quiet for a moment before continuing.  “I was thinking about the past thirteen years.  About how our experiences and our choices shape us and - - “

“- - and about how maybe if we hadn’t had those twelve years apart we wouldn’t be here today?” John finished for him.  He smiled at Rodney’s obvious surprise.  “I still regret those years apart,” he said.  “Not sure I’ll ever stop but - - “

“- - but we’re happy now and, in the end, that’s all that really matters.”

“Exactly.”  John leaned over for a quick kiss that soon turned slow and dirty until they were interrupted by another text notification, this one from Ronon advising them that they could be seen from Miko’s window and to stop groping each other and get their asses in here.

John didn’t even turn around, just angled his arm so that it would be visible to whoever was watching and flipped his middle finger in the air.

They were happy and that was all that mattered.  

John was going to milk this encore for all it was worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hells yeah, I finished! Hells yeah, longest published fic to date!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who cheered me through this and hi to everyone who is reading now that it is finally completed.


End file.
